


The Art of Maintaining Devil Arms

by gingeringfigs



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Devil Arms - Freeform, Don’t copy to another site, Feels, Gen, Incest, M/M, Sibling Incest, Twincest, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-04-23 00:31:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 29,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19139974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gingeringfigs/pseuds/gingeringfigs
Summary: When Nelo Angelo was defeated on Mallet Island, two objects fell to the floor. An amulet and...a heavily damaged Devil Sword. Dante has no idea of how he's going to fix his brother, but he's gonna try his best. Wish him luck.





	1. Chapter 1

With a clatter that echoed in the deafening silence, two metallic objects fell. Numb with shocked disbelief, Dante could only slowly walk forward to where the dark knight…his brother had been. He knelt and picked up the smaller object first. It was an amulet that was a twin to his. Dawning horror filled him. So the knight really was Vergil and he had…he had… 

Dante squeezed the amulet so hard he cut his palm on its sharp edges. His blood dripped onto the other object that had fallen from his brother. It flared momentarily with a pale blue glow, catching his attention. At first glance, he mistook it for Vergil’s katana, Yamato. But when he looked again, he realised that it wasn’t Yamato. The blade was obsidian black and had a dark blue scaled leathery hilt. Its leather scabbard that lay beside it was also covered with blue scales. 

It was also in terrible shape, the sheen of the black blade dull and its edge pitted. The scales on both the hilt and scabbard were cracked, drying out and mottled with discolouration. Nevertheless, it was beautiful all the same. Compelled, Dante picked it up.

_...Dante…_

Dante almost dropped the sword. Daring to hope against all odds, he raised it and stared at his murky reflection in the blade’s flat, “Vergil? You’re in there...?”

Silence. Vergil did not answer. Desperate to cling onto the finest thread of hope, he sliced his just-newly-healed palm open on the blade’s razor sharp edge and slowly ran his hand over the entire length, soaking it with his blood. The black blade glowed dimly as it greedily absorbed his blood. Some of the cracks slowly mended before his eyes. And...very faintly, he could sense Vergil’s soul flicker back to life in the sword, a small candlelight in the void. 

Dante almost collapsed with sheer relief. God. Vergil was still alive. In a manner of speaking. But there was no way of telling if his brother would ever regain his former self… He had never heard of Devil Arms reverting to their former selves once defeated. 

He tenderly and carefully slid the scabbard over the sword, taking care not to let it catch on the sword’s cracked edges. He strapped Vergil to his hip and kept his hand loosely wrapped around him.

“I’ve got you, brother. Rest. I’ll handle Mundus.”

 

* * *

 

After serving Mundus’s feathery butt back to him on a platter, banishing him back to hell and yeeting out of Mallet Island with Trish, Dante was finally back in his shop.

“Home sweet home…” he muttered. There was no reply from Vergil. Well. What was he expecting? Trish eyed the blue sword at his hip and commented, “A new Devil Arm? You didn’t use it all on Mallet Island.”

Dante growled, baring his teeth at her. Trish paused. She rethought her words. 

“Oh. The sword is your brother, isn’t it? My apologies,” she said with lowered eyes. Dante let it slide without comment.

He pushed the door open and stomped inside. Throwing off his coat, he began shedding the armoury of Devil Arms he carried, placing them back into their proper places. Rebellion and Sparda were given places of honour over the fireplace mantle. The new ones collected on Mallet Island were put aside for him to decide later. And as for Vergil… He kept him on his hip. 

Trish followed him in, looking around the shop. She looked uncertain — free from Mundus, she no longer had a purpose and was not sure what she wanted to do yet. Dante cracked his neck, rolling his shoulders to loosen the kinks in his muscles. He told her, “You can stay or go. It’s your choice.”

“Very well. I’ll stay then. You got a spare room?” 

He waved to the stairs beside them, “The room opposite the bathroom is yours. Take it.”

Trish gave him a small smile before disappearing upstairs. Dante caressed Vergil with his thumb and spoke to him, “I honestly have no idea of how to fix a Devil Arm. But I’ll try to do my best to return you back to tip-top condition. Can’t be too different from normal sword maintenance, can it? Man…”

Vergil remained inert.

“Still asleep? Heh.”

 

* * *

 

It took quite a bit of trial and error, but eventually, Dante found that the best substances for Vergil were his blood and his demonic aura. Vergil practically devoured them, absorbing them into his body with great speed and mending physical defects. Not even the best top of the line oils (even better than the ones he used for Rebellion and Sparda) met Vergil’s lofty standards. 

So it was now a daily routine for Dante to cut his veins open and bleed all over Vergil like he was a slasher movie victim. Due to his demonic healing, he also had to repeatedly cut himself open during Vergil’s “pampering” session. His bathroom now looked like an abattoir and it would be next to impossible to get the stains out from the grout. What a bitch.

“God, Vergil, you should have seen Lady’s face when she entered the bathroom and saw the bloody mess. It was hilarious. Remember Lady? She used to be called Mary, but after what her old man Arkham did, she prefers to go by Lady now…” Dante rambled as he sliced his arm open again, releasing a trickle of crimson blood into the bathtub that held Vergil. 

As usual, there was no reply from the inert sword. However, it did glow at regular intervals as it steadily absorbed his blood like a thirsty man deprived of water. Dante noted that almost half of the cracks were now gone and the blue scales had deepened in hue and vibrancy, gaining a glossy sheen as well. His reflection in the black admantine blade was growing clearer. They were making progress.

“You’re looking good. I suppose it won’t be too long now before you’re battle-ready…” 

Vergil remained silent, pristine as ever once all the blood had been absorbed. As Dante lifted the sword out of the bathtub, he wondered if Vergil was conscious enough to be aware of what was going on around him. Agni and Rudra certainly chattered a lot for swords.

“...Shit, this will be really embarrassing if you are actually listening.”

 

* * *

 

Eventually, Vergil was fully mended. But much to Dante’s disappointment, Vergil showed no signs of returning back to normal from his Devil Arm state. Perhaps, there was indeed no way for a demon to change back when they became Devil Arms. It was a bitter pill to swallow. Nevertheless, he took some comfort from knowing that Vergil still lived, if being a Devil Arm could be considered living, safe and sound in his home.

“...I don’t think I can bring you along with me on my missions, Vergil. It doesn’t feel right to use you as a weapon. Not after what Mundus did to you and the state you were in…” Dante said as he held Vergil aloft, examining him for any other defects he might have missed.

Though Vergil was now fit to be used in the field, Dante couldn’t bring himself to include him as part of his weaponry. He also didn’t want to risk injuring Vergil again when he had only just recovered. Vergil apparently didn’t agree either with the sudden extension of sharp spikes from his hilt that pierced through his hand. It really _hurt_.

“Ow. Yeah. Thought so. You don’t like it as well. Okay, message received loud and clear.” 

Yeah. Okay. Mundus had messed Vergil up pretty badly. The way he had looked before he became a Devil Sword… Vergil had looked like a dead man walking; white flaking flesh with blue veins of corruption and glowing red eyes that showed no spark of life.

Wincing as he eased his hand off the spikes, he smeared his bleeding hand on Vergil, letting him absorb his blood as an apology. The spikes slowly retracted as Vergil glowed dimly.

Though the hole mended quickly thanks to his demonic healing, it was the message behind the injury that counted. No taking Vergil out on missions. Understood. 

So, in the end, he left Vergil on his bedside shelf. He didn’t feel comfortable leaving him downstairs along with the other Devil Arms in the public area of his office. It would be too easy for anyone to come in and steal Vergil, who did make for a very handsome katana with his deep iridescent blue scales and shiny black admantine blade that was harder than diamond. 

But this didn't last long. Just a few days later, as he looked at Vergil lying on his bedside shelf, it didn’t feel _right_ either. He deserved a place to be stored properly. Vergil did always like to make sure that his belongings were properly kept in their right places...

“Damn it. I’ll have to get you a stand,” Dante muttered as he carefully picked Vergil up. He would just have to carry him around on his hip until he managed to get a sword rack.

 

* * *

 

Trish was the first besides Lady to notice the new sword rack with Vergil carefully placed on it. The sword rack was placed inside a glass case behind his desk and protected with a red devil seal of his own design, powered by his blood and demonic energy. She appreciatively said, “Nice. It must have cost a pretty penny. I’m surprised you could afford that with how broke you are, Dante.”

Dante ruefully grinned, “Vergil did always have high standards. Only feels right to get him the best.”

Following suit, Lady took a closer look and drawled, “My. Grey velvet and is that made of ebony? You treat him better than us ladies. Should I be jealous?”

He could only chuckle nervously as both women turned to him with a predatory glint in their eyes. 

“Whoa now, now, now. Take it easy…!” He raised his hands in surrender.

“You’re treating us to dinner tonight,” Trish declared.

“And it better be a nice fancy one! No pizza,” Lady interjected. 

“You’re brutal. Ruthless. Merciless. Have pity on my wallet!” Dante weakly protested. He was going to be broke for the next three months…!

 

* * *

 

Although there was no further need to bleed on Vergil to aid his mending, it was now a daily habit to take the sword out of the glass case for a good session of TLC. Dust accumulated easily and without proper maintenance, dust particles could scratch the blade. Furthermore, oil had to be regularly reapplied so that moisture would not seep in and cause the blade to rust. Of course, this didn’t apply to Vergil with his impervious admantine blade. But still, it was the principle of the matter to ensure that the blade was well maintained. 

Through trial and error, Dante learned that Vergil would only take the oil if it was mixed with some of his blood or the oil would just slide right off without even leaving a faint sheen. He wasn’t sure if it was either because Vergil was just really picky or there was just something about the Devil Arms’ constitution that didn’t accept normal human stuff. After all, the other Devil Arms did require demonic essence for repairs or upgrades. 

“You know, a funny thought occurred to me just the other day. If demons turn into Devil Arms when defeated, is it possible that our dear dad Sparda became a Devil Arm as well? Like, Sparda sword right there is actually the real Sparda in his Devil Arm state? It would certainly explain why we never found any trace of him all these years.” Dante idly mused as he gently wiped the dust and old oil off Vergil with a clean and soft microfiber cloth. 

“But nah, that wouldn’t really be possible. After all, Sparda sword is actually the combination of Sparda’s Force Edge with both our amulets from Mom.”

As usual, Vergil did not reply. Dante shook his head as he laughed lowly, “...We were really stupid then, weren’t we? I don’t know why you chose to jump and prevent me from saving you, but I do ask myself constantly if I should have jumped in after you anyway. To save you.”

Some water drops fell onto Vergil. Dante was embarrassed to find that his eyes had turned on the waterworks without his consent. He quickly moved to wipe his tears off Vergil but found that they had already been absorbed. Feeling his ears burn, he futilely wiped the spot where his tears had been.

“Oh shit, I really, really do hope that you aren’t actually aware right now. This is so awkward. I literally cried on you,” Dante mumbled.

Thankfully, mercifully, Vergil did not respond. But yet, he still felt an echo of disappointment lingering. 

 

* * *

 

When the job from Fortuna came, Dante was instantly put on alert the moment he was told that the Order of Sword in Fortuna was seeking out Devil Arms. Almost on reflex, he glanced at the glass case with Vergil in it. He was still in there, safe and sound. 

...He shouldn’t have looked away from Trish. She had disappeared with Sparda sword. God fucking damn it, now he’d have to go all way down to Fortuna to get Sparda sword back. Cultists were just the fucking _worst_.

“Damn it! Okay, Vergil, I gotta go. No idea how long this mission will take, so sit tight and relax. I should be back before you know it. I wonder if you know anything about this cult? I’m pretty sure you must have been to Fortuna at least once if you had known that our dear dad had been their feudal lord ages ago.”

Dante patted the glass case before he left the shop. Perhaps, it was just his imagination playing tricks, but he could have sworn that he had heard Vergil call out to him. When he looked back, Vergil was inert as usual. Maybe he had gone a bit crazy with heartsick worry and fear at the possibility of his brother disappearing without his knowledge. It didn’t sit well with him at all knowing that there were people out there hunting Devil Arms…like Vergil. He had already lost him once and once was enough. 

Alright. He was going to go down to Fortuna and kick their asses so hard that they’d never dare to think of stealing Devil Arms again.

“See you in a bit.”

 

* * *

 

Fortuna was probably one of the craziest missions he’d ever taken on. He wondered what kind of crack Sanctus had sniffed and where he could get some of that. It must have been strong stuff. 

Joking.

But that punk Nero with the unmistakable stamp of Sparda on his features. And Yamato…

Well, it certainly had been a mindfuck to learn that Vergil had a son running around. Doing quick mental maths, Dante realised that if Nero was now 18 (his baby face made him look way younger so he was being generous) and they were now in their mid-thirties, Vergil had knocked up Nero’s mother sometime before Temenigru. His jaw clenched at the thought.

_…Did Vergil know about Nero’s existence before he jumped into Hell? I hope not cos that’s a whole new level of fucked up._

The glass case was still protected by his red devil seal and Vergil lay on the sword rack. The tension he hadn’t noticed till now eased. Vergil was still safe. Dante dispelled the seal and picked Vergil up. Time for another TLC session.

“I’m back, Verge. I hope you weren’t too bored while I was away. Boy, do I got new stories to tell you…”

Vergil didn’t respond. Same as always.

 

* * *

 

Nero came round to his shop a couple of weeks later. He looked nervous, but there was a familiar glint in his eyes that reminded him of Vergil’s desire for knowledge. 

Ah. So he had finally decided to come looking for answers. About time.

“Come in. Sit wherever you like,” Dante lazily waved towards the leather couch. As Nero stepped inside, he looked around his shop with a grimace, “Your place is a dump! How do you even work here?”

“Hey, manners, brat,” he said with little heat. Yeah, the office was a mess but honestly, he didn’t spend enough time in it to justify the need to keep the place tidy aside from ensuring that his armoury was well maintained. He didn’t even have much paperwork to deal with. Nero ducked his head, abashedly rubbing the back of his neck, “Sorry.”

“It’s all cool. Sit.”

Nero sat on the couch. Dante propped his feet on his desk and leaned back in his chair, folding his hands in his lap, “What do you want to know?”

“Well,” Nero had a false start before he recomposed himself and asked rapidly, “Are you my father?”

Dante couldn’t help but burst into hysterical laughter. Nero flushed and rose from his seat, turning to leave.

“No no no, sit! I wasn’t expecting you to come right out and ask so bluntly just like that! We do look similar, but I assure you that I’m not your old man,” Dante wheezed as he tried to calm his laughter. That was pure Vergil right there. Despite his aristocratic demeanour and love for poetry, Vergil had absolutely no tact, just spoke his mind without any filter. Lady could attest to that.

“...Okay.” Nero sulkily sat back down, crossing his arms. Awkward silence fell. Dante turned his head to glance at Vergil behind him in the glass case. Should he…?

Nah, the kid would just think he was pulling his leg. He didn’t fancy getting punched again with that devil arm of his. That arm sure packed quite the hefty punch. Just like his father. Vergil could hit hard with those guns of his. Swinging his feet off the table and rising from his chair, he said, “If you’ve got more questions, you better ask them quick because I’ve got to give this guy his regular TLC.”

Remaining seated, Nero watched him dispel the seal and retrieve Vergil from the sword rack. He curiously asked, “...That’s a nice sword. It looks like Yamato. Was that your brother’s as well?” 

“...Not really,” Dante noncommittally said as he took out the cloth and oil from his drawer. Close but not actually correct. Nero remained silent for a little while longer, watching him clean and oil Vergil. This almost amused him; all three Spardas in the same room not killing each other for once. Even if Vergil was currently a sword. 

“You’re a devil hunter, right? How do I get started?” Nero finally asked, an eager gleam in his eyes. 

“Now, you’re asking the good questions!” Dante grinned at Nero.

 

* * *

 

Years flew by quickly. Nero was now qualified to run his own chapter of Devil May Cry in Fortuna. The last time he heard from him, he’d apparently partnered up with Nico, Nell Goldstein’s granddaughter. Much like Nell, she was a talented weaponsmith and mechanic. He wished them both good luck. 

Lady had finally signed up with Devil May Cry, most likely because of Trish. Those two were as thick as thieves and spent most of the time out on their own missions. 

Then, there was old him and Devil Sword Vergil sitting pretty on his sword rack in Redgrave’s Devil May Cry branch. 

“You know, I think this may not be so bad,” Dante said as he slowly wiped down Vergil’s scabbard. The dark blue scales shimmered in the light as he held it up to inspect closely for any spots he might have missed. “It’s almost like when I was just starting out. Except you’re now here with me. Even if it’s not really what I’d imagined, but better than nothing, I suppose.”

Dante hissed as he sliced his wrist open on Vergil’s sharp edge. He kept the blade pressed into the wound to prevent his demonic healing from closing it too quickly, letting enough blood trickle out to coat the length of the black blade. He gently pulled his wrist away and wiped his blood off his closing wound, smearing the excess down Vergil’s blade. His hand came away spotless, the black blade having absorbed his blood. 

“You’ve been getting greedy of late. It seems that even if the oil is mixed with my blood, it isn’t good enough anymore, is it? If you weren’t a Devil Sword right now, I’d have started billing you for all the blood you’ve been draining from me ages ago,” Dante grumbled as he slid the scabbard back over Vergil. 

“I’ve been wondering…Is it time to tell Nero about you? He’s already more than old enough, come on. What do you think?”

Again, Vergil was silent. Shaking his head, he stood up to put him back in the glass case, “Fine, fine, you’re one talkative sword.”

Just when he had put back his devil seal on the glass case, Morrison entered with an envelope.

“Good news, Dante!”

 

* * *

 

Fuck. The feathery butt had come back, more monstrous than ever, with a fugly huge murder tree and a whole host of demons. It was worse than Mallet Island, the demonic energies so strong that they transformed Redgrave into a mirror of Hell. 

He may have bitten off a bit too much more than he could handle. Distantly, he heard Trish and Lady drag Nero away from them as he furiously fought to keep Mundus back, away from his family and friends. Mundus was stronger than the last time, strengthened by the thick miasma of demonic energy that filled the space. How long had he been fighting? It must have been hours. 

Dimly, he noticed that Mundus had the audacity to raise the tree near their childhood home. As though he was mocking him, that he’d ruin his home once more like that night years ago. 

As if he’d let that happen. After he’d seen what Mundus had done to Vergil. He would rather die than let it happen to any of his family. 

But Mundus was far too powerful, having glutted himself on innocent human lives drained by the Qliphoth tree. He hadn’t even eaten the fruit. Dante dreaded the outcome should Mundus eat the fruit. But he had to try. 

Mundus flicked a wing, smashing through his Devil Trigger form and shattering Rebellion in his hands. He fell, Sparda sword following him down.

It hurt. He felt he was both burning and breaking apart at the same time. He couldn’t even scream. As everything went black, his last thoughts were of Vergil. 

_Sorry, looks like I’ll miss our regular TLC sessions…_


	2. Chapter 2

As his form shattered and burned, he was born anew. But he was weak. So weak that he could barely stay conscious, wavering in and out of awareness. He could not see, move or speak. But he could sense a warm presence nearby. Who were they? 

Something fell on him. It was pure ambrosia to his senses. _Healing_. Driven by the desire to live, he greedily absorbed it. But there was too little. Not enough to sustain him. He was starting to fade again. The warm presence picked him up with gentle hands. Ah. Did he know them? He felt familiar. A name floated to the surface of his mind.

_...Dante…_

There was a heartstopping moment where he was nearly dropped to the floor. He would have yelled at them if he still had a voice. Then he felt the ambrosial healing substance being spread on him. It roused a visceral hunger in him and he immediately latched onto it. He could feel his strength slowly recovering the more he devoured the ambrosia. If he were to describe the taste of it, it was an elusive sweetness that graced his tongue with a deliciously tart edge that left him craving for more. 

Soon, he was sated. Feeling much better than he had mere moments ago, he now felt sleepy. He distantly felt warm hands gently slide a protective cover over him. The person who had fed him so well said something. He didn’t hear what they said, already drifting off into a peaceful slumber.

 

* * *

 

When he next woke, he was ravenous. He panicked when he didn’t feel that warm presence nearby. He needed _more_ of that delicious ambrosia to quell his hunger and to heal. Thankfully, that presence came as though they had heard his demands. Oh, they were still around. He felt relieved.

They lifted him and gently removed the protective cover — wait...is that…? He felt a soft cloth being gently wiped over him, removing the faint niggling traces of dirt that he hadn’t noticed till now. It felt good to be clean. 

Then, a different cloth that felt slightly damp was wiped over him. The substance soaked into his scales, soothing his aches and dryness. Unfortunately this wasn’t the sweet ambrosia. Instead, it distinctly tasted of mineral. Not quite what he would have preferred, but it would suffice. He would still heal though the process would be much slower without the inherent energy and power of the ambrosia. He was still hungry. Perhaps, the heavenly liquid was in short supply? He would not be surprised. 

His caretaker finished wiping him down and lightly ran their fingertips over his scales. He shivered when they brushed the cracked scales. The sensation was like scratching at a scab that wasn’t ready to come off just yet, but still felt good as though the itchiness was relieved despite the momentary sharp bite of pain.

His caretaker put him back down and he sorely wished he could see what was happening. Then he tasted that sweet nectar again. Like a drug addict, he thirstily drank it, relishing the healing power that suffused him. The caretaker brushed his scales again, lingering over the now healed cracks. 

“Blood huh?”

Sated and feeling lassitude come over him, he let himself drift to sleep. He would take his time and heal. He felt he could trust this person to look after him. 

 

* * *

 

It seemed that his caretaker was having difficulty securing a steady supply of ambrosia because he was now being fed a variety of substandard substances that did little for his healing progress and satisfying his hunger. Pity. 

At least, he had finally figured out how to absorb life energy through physical contact. He couldn’t leech as much as he could from passive absorption as compared to the direct infusion of ambrosia, but it was better than nothing. His caretaker’s hands were gentle as always as they gave him his regular wipe-downs, his life energy warm and comforting as it flowed through him, boosting his own energy. 

Shame he couldn’t really taste it like ambrosia even if it did ease his hunger pangs. He thirsted for the sweet nectar. 

Oops. His caretaker had accidentally nicked himself on one of his loose scales. Wait. Was that his _blood_? It tasted... _Oh_. That had been his blood all _along_? But yet, that mere drop of blood was too delicious and held far more vitality than any of the other substances, bar his life energy. He couldn’t bring himself to feel bad about accidentally cutting his caretaker when he was _starving_. A burst of energy flared from within as he savoured it.

“...Well dang, looks like it’s gotta be my blood or nothing, huh? You’re real picky, Vergil.”

As he drifted off to sleep, he wondered why his caretaker called him Vergil. 

 

* * *

 

His caretaker talked a lot. He also kept calling him Vergil but he had no idea why. Clearly, there was some significance to that name with the way they addressed him with fondness. This was also awkward. Unable to speak and having no context for what they spoke of, he was a mute and unwittingly trapped audience who barely understood anything of their long rambles. 

Well, he didn’t really mind all that much as long he got to feed. The caretaker had finally clued in that he needed his blood to heal. He was now practically drowning in it. This greatly pleased him and he could feel himself getting stronger at a much faster rate. Unfortunately, the healing process also demanded that he sleep so as to let his body heal. Once the feeding session was over, he’d already be fast asleep. 

“You’re looking good. I suppose it won’t be too long now before you’re battle-ready…” 

Oh? He was almost fully healed? How much time had passed while he was healing? He wished he could speak so he could ask them. 

“...Shit, this will be really embarrassing if you are actually listening.”

_I wasn’t really listening. Just keep feeding me._

 

* * *

 

One day, it suddenly clicked. It was as though the fog that had been clouding his mind all this time was finally cleared away and he could think with sharp crystal clarity. He had fully healed. And...what the fuck?

_Am I a fucking sword right now??_

No wonder he couldn’t see or move. A sword doesn’t have EYES or LIMBS. He would have angrily cursed but a sword doesn’t have a voice. How had he ended up in this form? As he struggled to remember, the only thing he could recall was the sheer _pain_ as well as the utter _relief_ of finally being free from much worse torture and imprisonment.

Huh.

So he’d voluntarily taken this form then? To escape? What had he been thinking? Being an inanimate sword wasn’t that much better! Hold on. What was his name? Why could he not remember? Distracted by his musings, he almost didn’t notice his caretaker lifting him to examine him. He did notice how they were careful not to let his blade catch on the inner curve of the sheath as they drew him out of his cover, slow and patient. It spoke of meticulous diligence.

Who was this person that had been taking such good care of him all this while? He wished that he could see what they looked like.

“Great, looks like there’s nothing else that needs fixing. You’re fully healed, Vergil.”

Vergil. That name again. Was that his real name…? _Vergil_. He wasn’t sure. 

Wait a moment.

If he was a sword right now, then how was it he could hear his caretaker? Swords don’t have ears! Well, then again, they weren’t supposed to be intelligent and sentient either. This was completely out of his depth. 

Hold on, wasn’t sound just mere vibrations of the air that were detected by the ear? Was he somehow perceiving these vibrations through his body as a sword and translating them into sounds he could hear? If so, this held some fascinating possibilities. If vibrations could be translated into sound, then, what about sight? Bats use echolocation to help them see. This might actually work!

Oh. Right. He still didn’t have a VOICE. That meant he couldn’t create vibrations to mimic echolocation. Argh, stuck at square one again. He would have sighed if he could. 

Ah, his caretaker. He’d almost forgotten about him when he got distracted. They seemed to be waiting for something as they held him aloft. What did they want now? 

“...Looks like you can’t change back? Shame…” They said as they lowered him down. He would have changed if he could! But he was stuck in this form with no clue of how he ended up this way. But one thing was clear. They _knew_ him before he became a sword.

Was Vergil his real name after all?

 

* * *

 

“...I don’t think I can bring you along with me on my missions, Vergil. It doesn’t feel right to use you as a weapon. Not after what Mundus did to you and the state you were in…” 

That was the first thing he heard when he was woken up by his caretaker. He hadn’t yet taken the name Vergil for himself, wanting to know more and to see if he could get his memories back first. Mundus? That name didn’t sound familiar but something deep inside him revolted, expressing itself as flared spikes that stabbed his caretaker without his control. 

_Shit_.

“Ow. Yeah. Thought so. You don’t like it as well. Okay, message received loud and clear.” 

As if in apology, they smeared their bleeding hand on him and out of habit, he absorbed the blood. He needed to get a better hold of himself before someone got seriously hurt. Okay. Mundus must have been the one who caused his current situation. 

_Three red glowing eyes. Cold laughter ringing in his ears as he lay hapless before the monstrous demon. Foul filth violating him, suppressing his will and puppeting his body without his consent. Neverending pain of constant decay and forced healing as his body struggled to reject the foreign miasma that poisoned him. He was already a broken shell of a man craving for death when the oddly familiar man in red came…_

He shuddered. Gods. Even though he couldn’t fully recall everything, that mere flash of memories and phantom sensation of utter agony were enough to put him off Mundus entirely. He was perfectly happy to be a sword if the alternative had been... _that_. 

...Moreover, who was the man in red? Was his caretaker that very same person? His gut instincts said yes. He wouldn’t mind being beholden to him if he had been the one to save him from Mundus and had taken such careful care with him as though he was a...loved one.

Fuck. He really needed to know and see who his caretaker was. 

 

* * *

 

“Damn it. I’ll have to get you a stand.”

_No, I don’t need a bloody stand. I want to know your name and get my memories back!_

He still had yet to learn his caretaker’s name. This was _frustrating_. He hoped that like what happened with Mundus, he would be able to recall more memories if he knew their name. So far, no such luck. It seemed as though they lived alone with no one else to call him by name. 

...That was sad. Why did they live alone? Swords didn’t count as appropriate company, even if he might be the exception as a sentient sword. In any case, his caretaker was being rather fussy over him and had taken him along when they went out looking for a sword stand. Honestly. He didn’t need one! As a sword, he knew that he wasn’t an ornamental trinket that was only good for looking pretty. He was made to be a killing weapon. 

But well, it was a nice gesture. While they were out, he noticed that they had a constant habit of running their hand along his scabbard as if to reassure himself that he was still there. 

_A large red house. Laughter as they tussled in the grass, green stains marking their knees. Fighting with wooden swords. A book of poetry in his lap. A hand twined with his, his other half sleeping beside him._

It shook him to the core. What was that…? Their childhood? Something inside him ached, as if swollen with ineffable emotion. 

 

* * *

 

In the end, they did get him a sword stand much to his embarrassment. Admittedly, it did feel more comfortable than his previous accommodations but it was still awkward knowing that they had spent so much on this just for him. They had even included a glass cover that would help to prevent humidity and dust from getting in. This was…excessive. 

Oh, the glass cover also had an extra feature. To his senses, he could feel their caretaker’s aura infused in it like a protective shield and warm blanket. _Merda_. This was well and truly over the top. But...it was nice. It felt safe, an extension of their caretaker’s presence. It would be boorish of him to reject this gift (not that he could in his current form anyway) when it had been carefully chosen with thought and great expense. 

He heard two people enter the room. New customers? He heard them approach his glass case. When they spoke in feminine voices, he realised the women sounded vaguely familiar. Did he know them as well?

“Nice. It must have cost a pretty penny. I’m surprised you could afford that with how broke you are, Dante,” one of them said. 

_Dante…? That was his caretaker’s name! Finally._

“Vergil did always have high standards. Only feels right to get him the best,” Dante, his caretaker replied, sounding sheepish to his non-existent ears.

_Oh dear. How much did you spend on this…?_

“My. Grey velvet and is that made of ebony? You treat him better than us ladies. Should I be jealous?” the other interjected.

_Manache! Grey velvet and ebony?! That’s ridiculous!_

“Whoa now, now, now. Take it easy…!” 

“You’re treating us to dinner tonight.” 

“And it better be a nice fancy one! No pizza.” 

“You’re brutal. Ruthless. Merciless. Have pity on my wallet!”

_Dante, you brought this upon yourself. Foolish._

 

* * *

 

Though he had finally learned that his caretaker’s name was Dante, he was disappointed to find that the discovery didn’t trigger any new memories. Maybe he was expecting too much too soon? 

But one day, Dante seemed to be in a melancholy mood as he took him out of the glass case for their daily cleaning session.

“You know, a funny thought occurred to me just the other day. If demons turn into Devil Arms when defeated, is it possible that our dear dad Sparda became a Devil Arm as well? Like, Sparda sword right there is actually the real Sparda in his Devil Arm state? It would certainly explain why we never found any trace of him all these years.” Dante idly mused as he gently wiped the dust and old oil off him with a clean and soft microfiber cloth. 

_Sparda? Sounds familiar..._

“But nah, that wouldn’t really be possible. After all, Sparda sword is actually the combination of Sparda’s Force Edge with both our amulets from Mom.”

_Wait, rewind. We are siblings??_

Practically vibrating with questions which he couldn’t ask, he could only listen to Dante as he laughed lowly, “...We were really stupid then, weren’t we? I don’t know why you chose to jump and prevent me from saving you, but I do ask myself constantly if I should have jumped in after you anyway. To save you.”

_...Sorry, what? I...jumped? You tried to save me?_

Something wet fell onto him. When he reflexively absorbed it, he realised that it wasn’t Dante’s sweet blood. Instead...it was tears. The tears of a devil. A much rarer substance than blood. He was subsumed entirely by the tidal wave of sheer power and emotions encapsulated in that precious fluid. Unable to withstand the torrent, he blacked out.

 

* * *

 

_Red. Strawberry sundaes that tasted sweet in summer. Red. Demon fire burning the red house down. Red. His mother’s tattered cape strewn around her limp body. Her blonde hair soaked in blood. Red. The blood of enemies drenching the earth as he fought alone in the dark. Red._

_Red. The blood rubies of two amulets gleaming in the crimson dusk. Red. That bright red coat that hid nothing. Red. Blood streaming in rivulets of red, contrasting pale exposed flesh and the grey metal sword buried deep in it. Red. A seal that refused to open. Red. The sadistic slasher smile of a joker in purple. Red._

_Red. The flare of his brother’s Devil Trigger, flickering like flames. Red. Sleek scales gleaming ruby red. Red. Eyes glowing red. Red. Carmine lips parted in a snarl, revealing sharp fangs stained in blood, the liquid running down his chin. Red._

_Red. Drops of blood dripping from the gash in his brother’s hand as he fell. His brother’s red coat a beacon in the dark. Red. Three malevolent eyes bearing down on him. Red. His blood gleaming in the wailing river Cocytus. Red. The fires of hell. Red._

_Red. The man in red. Red._

_Red. The colour of his salvation. Red._

_Dante._

 

* * *

 

Vergil woke, utterly wretched and furious. Had he been so addled that he lost all common sense in his quest for more power? Never mind that he had sought power for the sake of protecting himself and Dante and to get revenge for their mother Eva? Thankfully, he didn’t remember much of his time under Mundus’ control, but he still recalled with clarity the sensation of Dante choking under his bare hands. If the amulet hadn’t fallen out, Dante would have died, not knowing that his killer was his brother. It made him shudder at how close Dante had been to dying.

Honestly, it was a miracle that he was still _alive_. He should have died on Mallet Island years ago but yet...Dante had chosen to save him. He had nurtured him back to full health at his own expense and without any guarantee that he would succeed. 

His past self would have rankled at having to be saved. Instead, he was humbled and awed. How could he not be otherwise? It could have been so much worse — he could have been trapped much longer in that hateful form under Mundus’ control. He still remembered how Dante had so carefully taken care of him all these years and fed him with his blood. Devil’s blood wasn’t meant to be shared like this; the risks of stealing another devil’s power through their blood was too high. Yet, Dante just shared it freely with nary a concern for his own self. Of course, he might not have been aware of the implications…but who knows?

So why? Why go to such lengths? He was not worthy of such loyal devotion Dante had given him all these years. He shied away from thinking too hard on it, not wanting to know the answer. 

His current situation as a Devil Sword was not ideal but still far better than the alternative. Perhaps, while he tried to figure out how to break out of this form, he could work for Dante as his weapon...

“Damn it! Okay, Vergil, I gotta go. No idea how long this mission will take, so sit tight and relax. I should be back before you know it. I wonder if you know anything about this cult? I’m pretty sure you must have been to Fortuna at least once if you had known that our dear dad had been their feudal lord ages ago.”

_No! Take me with you, cretino!_

Vergil tried to shout. But his voice was sealed. A sword has no voice. Powerless, he could only seethe in sheer frustration as he felt Dante’s presence grow fainter in the distance as he lay on the sword rack. 

_Cazzo!_

 

* * *

 

Seeing as there was no point fretting over that damn _idiota_ of his (why the fuck would Dante leave behind a perfectly serviceable Devil Arm?! Had he lost his brain cells??), Vergil devoted his attention to figuring out how he could transform back to his original form from his Devil Sword form. 

Thanks to Dante’s devil seal that not only shielded his glass case but hid his presence as well, he could freely flare his energy with impunity, pushing it hard outside of his body in an attempt to break his physical form. Assuming that Devil Arms were physical “vessels” that embodied the devil’s soul, it would be logical to also assume that if he could shatter that shell, he could reform his original body. 

Wait. What would happen if a Devil Arm broke against its will? That would mean that the “vessel” was damaged and the soul would be lost. Essentially...death. Yikes. Perhaps, he should rethink his approach.

Before he could make headway, Dante returned, sounding tired but well.

“I’m back, Verge. I hope you weren’t too bored while I was away. Boy, do I got new stories to tell you…”

_Damn it. I was hoping to succeed before you returned. Very well. What happened?_

 

* * *

 

“Are you my father?”

_Excuse me. What. The. Fuck._

That question pulled him out of his efforts to break his Devil Arm form. Vergil was _not_ expecting to hear that. Dante burst into hysterical laughter. Oh, ok. Dante definitely wasn’t the father of whoever had just asked that question. 

“No no no, sit! I wasn’t expecting you to come right out and ask so bluntly just like that! We do look similar, but I assure you that I’m not your old man,” Dante wheezed.

“...Okay.” 

Awkward silence fell. He was about to resume his efforts when Dante spoke, “If you’ve got more questions, you better ask them quick because I’ve got to give this guy his regular TLC.”

_Damn it._

“...That’s a nice sword. It looks like Yamato. Was that your brother’s as well?” 

_I’m his brother._

“...Not really,” Dante noncommittally said. As usual, he was being given a wipe-down and a new coat of oil. Admittedly, this was the best part of the day for him. He swore for the umpteenth time that Dante must never know of this weakness. 

“You’re a devil hunter, right? How do I get started?” 

_Huh. A new devil hunter? Interesting…_

“Now, you’re asking the good questions!” 

 

* * *

 

Vergil had given up on trying to break free of his Devil Sword form after countless painful failures. It made him bitter and angry. He was even angrier that Dante had taken to treating him like an ornamental trinket and never took him along on his missions. So in retaliation, he took to feeding off Dante’s blood even though he no longer needed it to heal. 

“You’ve been getting greedy of late. It seems that even if the oil is mixed with my blood, it isn’t good enough anymore, is it? If you weren’t a Devil Sword right now, I’d have started billing you for all the blood you’ve been draining from me ages ago,” Dante grumbled.

_If you’d just take me along on your devil hunts and use me properly for once!_

“I’ve been wondering…Is it time to tell Nero about you? He’s already more than old enough, come on. What do you think?”

_Nero? What about him? Why bother when I’m stuck like this for good._

“Fine, fine, you’re one talkative sword.”

_I wish I could talk._

“Good news, Dante!”

 

* * *

 

_No. Dante, you must take me with you! Please listen to me if you can hear me! Dante!_

Vergil vibrated in sheer desperation when Dante failed to hear him and left the shop. No. Dante would fail against Mundus. He knew this from bitter personal experience.

Forced to wait in the dark, he had no way of telling how much time had passed. He had to do something. He couldn’t stay stuck here in his Devil Sword form. But how? 

After what seemed like eternity, he felt it. A sharp piercing phantom pain and the failing of Dante’s Devil seal that protected the glass case and the sword rack he lay on.

_No._

He was breaking free of this Devil Sword form or die trying.

Focusing all his energy to a point, he pushed as hard as he could, ignoring all warning signs of his body telling him that he would die if he broke his shell. The excruciating pain was so bad that it nearly made him black out but he could feel his shell start to break, his scales rippling and tearing free. One more push, he hazily thought. 

His body shattered. Overwhelming light and a soundless roar filled his senses as agony filled his entire being. 

He was dying.

_Dante…!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos are much appreciated!


	3. Chapter 3

A month had passed since Nero, Lady and Trish were forced to leave Dante behind. Qliphoth continued to grow unchecked through Redgrave city. Demons rampaged, barely held back by military and mercenaries. The three of them gathered in Devil May Cry’s office, having finally regained their strength from their previous ordeal with Mundus. 

“Why did you pull me away?! I could have helped Dante!” Nero angrily shouted, unable to believe that Trish and Lady had prevented him from trying to support Dante in that fight. And that Dante had brushed him aside as dead weight. In all likelihood, Dante was lying dead right now, but he refused to believe that the legendary devil hunter would die so easily to a feathered demon.

Trish sternly rebuked him, “You would not have been able to do _anything._ If you still remember the scriptures from that cult in Fortuna, you would realise that it was a stupid, suicidal move!”

“Who was that demon?” Nero demanded. Was the demon really so powerful?

Trish clutched her arms and gritted out, “ _Mundus_. King of Hell.”

“...Oh. _Fuck_.” 

All fight went out of Nero. He recognised that name from those church studies years ago. Mundus, the enemy of Sparda. Not even Sparda had managed to fully defeat him, only sealing him away in Hell with the other demons. 

A hushed silence fell in the office. Dante’s absence was painfully obvious with the absence of his witty quips. Lady reholstered her bazooka over her shoulder and calmly said, “We need more intel. First, is Dante still alive? If yes, where is he now and can we rescue him? Second, how do we defeat Mundus? Does he have a weakness we can exploit?” 

“I’m sure Dante is still _alive_!” Nero immediately replied, confident that his mentor still lived. Trish did not look as confident. 

Just then, the red seal on the glass case flickered white. Nero’s devil arm glowed, alerting him to the new presence of another demon. 

“What the —” 

An explosion of blue fire filled the office.

 

* * *

 

Nero cautiously opened his eyes and peeked over the couch he had vaulted over in the nick of time to avoid the glass shards. He saw a white haired man crouching in front of the empty sword rack, dressed in a long-sleeved dark navy coat and black pants. His head was bowed so he couldn’t see his face clearly, but there was something familiar about him that reminded him of Dante. 

The man slowly stood up from his crouched position, revealing his face to be identical to Dante’s. _What. The. Fuck._ Nero quickly glanced over to check on Trish and Lady. Shit. They were still out-cold, having been much closer to the explosion than him. Just then, Dante’s doppelganger stretched out his hand as if summoning something. His devil arm glowed.

“Wha- Hey!!” 

Much to his shock, Yamato emerged from his arm and flew to the stranger’s hand. Wait...didn’t Dante mention that Yamato had belonged to his older brother before? If the stranger was indeed Dante’s brother, where the hell had he been till now?! And, hold on, they were identical twins?? It would have been good to _know_ , Dante! But one thing was clear. He needed to buy more time for Trish and Lady, just in case. So he stood up from behind the couch, stealthily prepping Blue Rose behind his back.

Oh shit. Dante hadn’t told him his brother’s name, had he?

“...You must be Nero.” The stranger said and man, was that eerie, seeing a man with Dante’s face look so serious. 

“You know my name, but I don’t know who you are. What do you want and why are you able to command Yamato?” Nero warily asked. His devil arm was still glowing in response to the stranger, indicating that he wasn’t completely human. The stranger arched a brow, “Dante didn’t tell you about me?”

He paused and looked at the broken sword rack behind him with an unreadable expression, “...Perhaps, he did have a good reason.” 

After a long moment of silence, he finally introduced himself,“I am Vergil, Dante’s older brother. I used to own Yamato before it came into your possession. My gratitude for looking after it all this while.”

“Huh, okay, you’re welcome…? So, where have you been? We could have used your help with Mundus earlier!” Nero flipped Blue Rose’s safety back on and reholstered it. He went to check on Trish and Lady and saw that they were starting to rouse. Oh good.

Vergil strode towards the door as he answered, “I was not in a position where I could help even if I wanted to. My foolish little brother was not able to hear my warnings despite my best efforts. I am rectifying this now.”

“Whoa whoa, hold the fuck up! You’re going there alone?!” Nero was torn between needing to stay behind to watch over his colleagues and the urge to chase after Vergil on his mission to find Dante. He shouted after him, “Can’t you wait for Trish and Lady to wake up?! We can help you.”

Vergil stopped at the door and glanced back at him with a cool sneer, “I can feel Dante’s life ebbing the longer I delay. If you wish to follow, you may do so if you stay out of my _way_.”

Wow. What an _asshole_. Was that why Dante never talked about him?

Nero narrowed his eyes at him, “Chill. I was just saying that perhaps it might be a better idea to go in numbers than to go alone. Mundus is way too powerful for just one guy!”

“I care not for Mundus. I only wish to save Dante.” Vergil’s curt parting remark was a flat matter-of-fact statement. It promised pain and death for whoever dared to obstruct his path, even if they were Mundus. Sheesh. What a fucking drama queen. He was just as bad as Dante but in an emo goth fashion. Just like his clothes, come to think of it.

Before Nero could object further, Vergil left the office. _Fuck_. He hoped that the man wouldn’t have gone too far when he was finally able to chase him.

 

* * *

 

Trish and Lady regained consciousness shortly after Vergil left, none the worse for wear. They weren’t surprised to hear that Dante’s mysterious elder brother who was also an identical twin (was he the only one not to know of this??) had appeared. Putting her hands on her hips, Trish sardonically said, “Ah, the sleeping beauty finally woke up. I suppose he should be free of Mundus’s corruption by now...”

Hoisting her bazooka over her shoulder, Lady scoffed, “He’s an asshole. But a competent one. He tried to kill Dante a few times before.” 

“That doesn’t fill me with confidence!” Nero exclaimed in alarm, about ready to go after Vergil to stop him. Lady laughed, “They’re half demons. Killing is just a bloodsport for them. Maybe foreplay even.”

“...I’m not sure if I should be relieved or more horrified,” Nero muttered under his breath as he strapped Red Queen to his back. 

Leaving Devil May Cry, both women climbed onto Lady’s motorcycle. Trish said, “It’ll be more efficient if we split up to cut down the Qliphoth roots before tackling the big tree. See you there.”

“Good luck with Vergil, kid. You might need it,” Lady quipped.

“Wait—”

With a loud roar, Lady revved her motorcycle and they zoomed away down the street. Nero looked the other way in the direction of the large tree looming high in the sky. Sheesh. Vergil was already long gone and the journey back through literal hell on earth was going to be one hell of a pain in the ass. He had no idea how he was going to find either Vergil or Dante in that mess.

This was turning out to be the _longest day_ ever. 

 

* * *

 

After a quick phone call from the red telephone booth just down the block, Nico came roaring up in her van. As Nero climbed into his seat, he grimaced at the stench of cigarette smoke that filled the van.

“Didn’t I tell you to stop smoking in the van?! It smells like ass.” 

Nico unrepentantly continued smoking, “Hey, asshole! You woke me up at an ungodly hour in Fortuna! Unless you can get me a cuppa in the next fifteen minutes, shut up and deal with it.”

“You _hate_ coffee.”

“I _like_ coffee loaded with whipped cream, hazelnut and caramel toffee syrup.”

Nero rolled his eyes and lowered his side window, “That ain’t coffee anymore. It’s an unholy sugary brew.”

“Heathen. So where you going?”

“That tree over there,” Nero pointed at Qliphoth. “I need to find a guy who may or may not be Dante’s brother and Dante.”

Nico started driving, “You sound like you’re not that keen on meeting him. Did he piss in your oats or what?”

“Nah. Just rubs me wrong, that’s all. He wasn’t exactly looking to make friends,” Nero kicked back to settle down for the ride. With both Vergil’s obvious resemblance to Dante and Yamato, old questions he had long forgotten and buried were rising to fore. Fuck, he didn’t even want to _think_ about it.

He rubbed his head, “Fucking hell, I need a pay raise.”

“Cut me 50!”

 

* * *

 

Soon, Nico braked her van and leaned on the driving wheel, “Ride’s over! No way this baby is getting down this cliff.”

Nero nodded, “I’ll go ahead first. I’ll give you a call when I find a safe spot.”

“Business is closed!” Nico was already making herself comfortable, readying for a nap. Nero rolled his eyes as he hopped off the van and jumped down the ravine to the Old Quarters of central Redgrave. 

The Old Quarters of Redgrave were as silent as a grave, no pun intended, as he cautiously walked through the empty streets. It was strange that there were hardly any demons out when he had expected them to be practically coming out in droves. Nero was almost disappointed at the lack of action.

Just then, his devil arm tingled, glowing with a blue light. Demons were close by! He dashed in the direction indicated by his arm. As he approached closer to where the demons were, he could hear loud roaring and buildings being destroyed. When he finally arrived, he could only stare in amazement as Vergil finished off a gigantic demon that was as tall as a building with offensively graceful ease. 

Ah. So that explained why there were no demons earlier. Vergil had decimated them all.

“Thanks for clearing the way for me. It sure made it easier, not having to fight through swarms of pesky empusa,” Nero greeted him. As the beast’s corpse faded away in shards of light, Vergil flicked the beast’s blood off Yamato and resheathed it. He looked at him and replied, “You’re slow.” 

Fuck you too. Nero restrained the desire to flip him off. Aside from Dante, Vergil was the only person he had met that could easily take down such an enormous demon so quickly like it was just a mere empusa. There was no point in antagonising him further when he needed his help to save Dante and he seemed like the best bet. 

Nero gestured to the Qliphoth tree and asked, “You know where to find Dante?”

“How did you find me?” Vergil shot back.

Nero brandished his arm, “My arm is a living demon detector, duh. But it only works in close proximity. I can’t detect Dante this far away from wherever he is.”

Vergil tilted his head in thoughtful consideration, “Interesting.”

An awkward impasse fell. Vergil turned and started walking away. The _fuck_. Nero started after him, “Hey, if we’re going to work together to find Dante, you should tell me where you’re going next!”

“I don’t recall asking you for help. You will only be a hindrance.”

Boiling anger rose. Hindrance. Deadweight. They both meant the fucking same thing! God, Vergil and Dante were so fucking alike and he was so fucking done. 

Fuck. This. Bullshit. He lashed out his devil arm, sending out a spectral blue arm to smash the ground in front of Vergil, blocking him from going further. Vergil whipped around with a scowl, his hand ready to draw Yamato from its scabbard.

“What are you doing, foolish boy? Did I not warn you not to get in my way?” He hissed.

“Fuck that noise. I might not be related to Dante but I consider him as family! I ain’t losing any more of my family again. I’m coming with you, whether you like it or not!” Nero declared, Red Queen revving in his hands, ready to throw down if need be.

Vergil flinched. He lowered his hand and looked towards the Qliphoth in silence. When he finally spoke, he sounded tired, “Very well. Perhaps, this will go faster with your help. Dante’s life hangs but by a mere thread.”

Nero grinned victoriously. As he slung Red Queen over his shoulder, he asked, “Where do we go now?”

In lieu of reply, Vergil pulled out Yamato and slashed the air. A rift opened through space. Holy. Shit. He had never known that Yamato had this ability. Holy fuck, if he had known earlier, he would never have to deal with Nico’s insane driving ever again. Nero felt so _cheated_ right now.

Without pause, Vergil stepped through the portal. Before it closed, Nero jumped through it.

 

* * *

 

They emerged near the ruins of a red mansion, right at the foot of the Qliphoth tree. Nero calculated that they had easily covered at least ten kilometers in one jump. Eat your heart out, Nico.

However, his devil arm wasn’t showing a reaction yet, indicating that they were still too far from Dante to get a response. He shook his head, “I can’t sense Dante.”

Vergil was already striding towards the old red mansion as if guided by instinct. Twin telepathy, maybe? Nero followed him, keeping an eye out for any stray demons. When they were this close to the Qliphoth tree, there was a high chance of encountering even more dangerous enemies. Vergil paused in front of the rusty gates with an unreadable expression on his face before shaking his head as if to clear his mind as he continued further in. 

It was dark inside the old mansion and with rubble strewn on the floor, Nero was forced to slowly navigate his way through lest he trip and fall flat on his face. In contrast, Vergil seemed to glide ahead, the darkness and debris posing no obstacle for him. Eventually, they both reached the living room at the end of the long hallway. Nero’s eyebrows shot up in surprise when he saw a large family portrait hanging above the fireplace. Two white-haired identical boys with their parents, a blonde woman (she looked familiar…) and a white-haired man. 

Oh. This place...had been Dante’s and Vergil’s childhood home? What had happened here? The damage looked far too old to have been caused by the Qliphoth and there were thick layers of dust everywhere. Nero had so many questions he wanted to ask. But the silence was oppressive and he could tell that Vergil wasn’t in the mood to answer any questions. His arm still wasn’t glowing. 

After a long moment, Vergil finally started moving towards the back of the mansion. The back of the mansion had fallen off completely, shattered far below in the abyss where one of Qliphoth’s roots grew. When Nero looked over the edge, his devil arm started to tingle, a faint glow appearing. They were either finally getting close to Dante’s location or there were more demons below. Either way, they had to descend into the abyss. 

 

* * *

 

The descent was tedious going. Even though there were plenty of handholds and footholds thanks to the gnarly roots that poked through the earth, Nero didn’t want to alert whatever enemies might be down below and went slow to avoid dislodging any loose rubble. 

Vergil, the fucking cheater, had skipped ahead with Yamato’s stupidly overpowered teleporting skill without him. Ugh. The next time he pulled that shit, he was gonna bust a few of Blue Rose’s caps in him. 

But well, if Dante was really down there and in mortal peril, he couldn’t begrudge Vergil for hurrying ahead. Actually, no. He was fucking pissed off. Goddamn drama queen. Did Vergil not know the meaning of teamwork?! What if he ended running into a situation that required more than one person?! Nero fumed as he sped up.

Finally hitting the bottom, Nero’s devil arm was now glowing brightly, helping him see in the gloom. Vergil was nowhere to be seen. Ugh, seriously, fuck that guy. Increasingly growing resigned to Vergil’s dickish ways, he sauntered over uneven ground in the direction his devil arm indicated, Blue Rose cocked and ready in his other hand.

A short while later, he immediately felt it. A sheer wall of immense power that made his hackles raise and his devil arm throbbed in near pain. It was familiar. The power of Sparda Sword. Annndd there’s this asshole. Vergil was standing at the edge of a chasm, his gaze focused on a point in the distance. God. Was he trying to be Heathcliff or some other Byronic archetype?

“Dante is being protected by Sparda’s power. I cannot sense his exact location...only that he is near,” Vergil spoke, having heard his approach. Nero wasn’t exactly trying to be quiet anyway. Flicking the safety back on, he twirled Blue Rose in his hand and corrected him, “You mean Sparda sword. Yeah. That’s it alright. It’s making my devil arm ache like crazy with all the power it’s pumping out. We should find the sword first. Dante will most likely be near the sword since he was using it.”

Vergil inclined his head, acknowledging his statement. He pointed in the direction he had been staring off at and said, “That would be Sparda sword, would it? I’ve not actually seen it with my own eyes before.”

Nero looked. Yeah. That was Sparda sword lodged right in the wall above. And yep, that was the same Qliphoth root they had seen earlier from above. And below...he squinted, trying to make out the moving shapes. Oh. A bunch of nobodies...dancing? He’d seen weirder. 

“Well, whaddayaknow? It’s our lucky day! Can you portal us over?” Nero grinned ferociously, eager to fight. Vergil scoffed. Nevertheless, he pulled out Yamato and slashed open a portal, its twin appearing on the other end of the chasm. Convenient. Unclasping Red Queen from his back and flicking Blue Rose’s safety off, Nero ran into the portal. 

Time to kick some demon ass!

 

* * *

 

It was over in a flash. As the last of the demons dissipated into light with agonised wails, Nero leisurely stretched his back with a satisfied sigh. That had been a good workout. Nothing like beating the shit out of demons without having to worry about collateral damage. 

“Are you done?” Vergil impatiently interrupted. Nero crouched down to stretch his hamstrings, “Don’t mind me. You already know what to do, right? Just yank Sparda Sword from up there and maybe Dante will pop up from somewhere like Koolaid Man. No wait, Pizza Man?” 

Vergil just gave him an unimpressed look. With an effortless vault, he perched himself on a little ledge beside Sparda sword and pulled it out from the wall. As soon as the large blade left the stone, it stopped exuding power much to Nero’s relief, the ache in his devil arm finally subsiding. It still glowed faintly, indicating another demonic presence. 

Vergil then jumped down from the ledge with Sparda sword and roughly shoved it into Nero’s chest. As Nero fumbled with the large sword with loud swearing, he wordlessly stalked off to the edge of the chasm and leapt, his coat flaring behind him like wings. 

“God fucking damn it, Vergil! STOP DOING THAT!” Nero swore as he chased after him, Sparda sword in hand.

 

* * *

 

As they hurtled down, Nero punched his devil arm into the earthen wall, his spectral arm punching higher above him to slow his descent. Further below him, Vergil had transformed into his Devil Trigger, blue wings folded for greater speed as he swooped down, trailing blue fire. 

When Nero judged that he was finally low enough to jump and land without breaking bones, he pushed himself off the wall. Landing on the ground, he rolled to bleed off momentum, using his devil arm to steady himself. Wheeew. That was a ride. 

In a blaze of blue flames, Vergil changed back to his human form. No, not all the way. His eyes still glowed a demonic red and his bared teeth were fanged. Before Nero could yell at him for being a dramatic asshole, Vergil darted towards a mass of gnarled blackened roots. Strapping Sparda sword to his back alongside Red Queen, he followed along at a distance, his instincts warning him not to get too close. He might get his throat ripped out or worse. 

Vergil came to a sudden halt in front of the roots. Standing a safe distance away, Nero saw an old sculpture of a skeletal cloaked figure in the midst of black roots. In its arms laid a large claymore with a crimson scaled hilt and a large crack running down its fuller. Black tendrils twined tightly around the damaged sword. The only signs of Dante were the broken shards of Rebellion scattered on the ground around the sculpture.

 _What_. _Don’t tell me that I came all this way just for a broken sword?!_

“Where’s Dante? I don’t see him,” Nero irately asked. Vergil sneered, “He’s right in front of you, fool.”

“...What? I don’t understand! I only see a useless sword.” Nero waved at the broken sword with a scowl. He wasn’t blind. Vergil narrowed his eyes, his fanged teeth growing longer. Nero tensed, ready to fight or flee. Then Vergil visibly restrained himself and turned back to the broken sword, “I see that Dante didn’t tell you what happens to higher demons when they have been defeated… They turn into Devil Arms.”

_…Devil Arms? Oh. Oh holy shit. Oh fuck, that’s DANTE._

Instantly alarmed, Nero stepped closer to try and cut Dante free from the black roots. He stopped short when a sharp blade suddenly pressed against his neck. Vergil growled in a deep guttural voice, “Do not step any _closer_.”

Quickly holding his hands up, Nero stepped back. Yamato tracked his position until he was safely far, far beyond its reach. Vergil resheathed Yamato and pinned him with an unblinking piercing stare. It felt rather uncomfortably like he was being dissected. 

“...Keep watch. This may take a while.” 

“...Right. What are you going to do now?” Nero lowered his hands. Vergil didn’t answer. Instead, he turned to the broken sword that was Dante’s Devil Arm form and gently pulled the roots away from the blade. Then he lifted the claymore and swiftly impaled himself on it. Crimson blood immediately spilled forth, coating the blade in red.

“WHAT THE ABSOLUTE FUCK!!! ARE YOU MAD?!” 

“Stay back. Stand guard!” Vergil hissed at him, blood dripping from his chin. The claymore started to glow red. Nero clenched his fists. Okay. Okay. Cool. Cool. Maybe this would work. Alright. Fucking demon bullshit.

Turning his back to Vergil and Dante, Nero stood guard in the dark. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now you get Nero! Comments and Kudos are much appreciated! ❤️


	4. Chapter 4

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been stuck in this cold void unable to see or move. It was also agonising with a constant sharp pain that ran through his core. While it thankfully didn’t increase in intensity, it also never faded. All he knew right now was that he wanted this pain to stop. 

Then he was being lifted. Wait a minute, who was moving him?! Shit, he couldn’t see, move or talk! As he protested in furious silence, he faintly realised that whoever was holding him was familiar. Suddenly, healing warmth surrounded him and he tasted ambrosia. It reminded him of whiskey with a fiery, smoky punch. The sharp pain in his core faded and he could feel his strength returning with great speed as the warmth worked its way through his entire body. There was so much of it that his body could barely keep up, straining to heal as quickly as it could. 

The healing warmth also boosted his own energy levels, sending them sky-rocketing beyond what his body could safely contain. On instinct, his body triggered with the excess energy. Light exploded in his vision and he was flooded with a torrent of sensation after what had seemed like ages in the void.

_Whoof. What a rush. Oh yeah...I’m Dante._

“God, I never want to go through that again,” Dante muttered as he pushed himself up from the ground. Oh great, he was still alive. He’d thought that Mundus would have killed him or done something far worse like turning him into a Nelo Angelo. What the hell had happened to him and how long had he been stuck in the void?

“...About time you woke up. You’re such a sleepyhead,” a nostalgically familiar voice drawled before he was kicked in the ass, sending him stumbling. “You’ve slept far too long. A whole month is quite the stunning new record.”

“ _Hey!_ ” Dante whirled around, instinctively grabbing for Rebellion but only grabbed air. Ah right, it had been broken by the feathery bastard... Then he saw who kicked him. He stared in utter disbelief, “... _Vergil?!_ ”

Vergil leaned against the skeletal sculpture, looking rather pale and exhausted. One of his hands was pressed against a large hole in his chest to stem the heavy bleeding. Despite his state, his tongue was as sharp as ever, “Try not to wear my name out too quickly, Dante.”

It took him a few moments too long to stop staring like a moron. He gave him the finger, “ _Sei una testa di cazzo!_ ”

“ _Sei un cretino,_ ” Vergil sharply retorted, some colour returning to his cheeks as his wound healed. Oh yeah, how did he get that injury…? And how did he manage to break his Devil Arm form? Before Dante could ask, Nero cut in. Stomping towards them with an exasperated look on his face, he growled, “Cut it out, you fucking assholes! We gotta get going and stop Mundus.”

“Oh hey. Good to see ya,” Dante greeted him with a wave, “I didn’t realise you had come with Vergil.”

Nero gave him a sour look, “You could have told me his _name_ and the fact he’s your fucking _identical_ _twin_!”

Dante chuckled lightly, “Well… I didn’t know if he was ever coming back. It wouldn’t have made any difference.”

Nero rolled his eyes at him, “Whatever. But it’s good to see you’re back to normal. It was freaking weird seeing you as a sword. Didn’t know that demons could do that.”

_Huh. So I turned into a Devil Arm too? Wait a minute… Did Vergil…_

Vergil was already fully healed when Dante quickly turned his head to look at him. He caught his eyes darting to his chest where the injury had been. He scoffed, “Consider the blood debt between us settled. We’re even now.”

Dante couldn’t help but recall the powerful warmth that swept through him, fierce and all-consuming. Even now, he could still taste that fiery, smoky whiskey tang on his tongue. He wanted to ask if it had been the same for Vergil too.

“Next time, fucking warn me, Vergil! It damn near gave me a heart attack when you straight up impaled yourself on Dante’s Devil Arm form like a fucking suicidal moron!” Nero hissed. 

Vergil ignored him, “Nero did make a good point earlier. We should stop Mundus.”

With a snarl on his face, Nero made a strangling motion with his hands, making Dante laugh. Shaking his head, he bent to pick up Rebellion’s hilt and flipped it in his hand with a sigh, “Damn it, I really liked this sword. It served me so well for so long...”

Vergil was silent for a long moment before he replied solemnly, “Yamato was broken by Mundus too. I’d thought it lost forever in Hell so I was very glad to see that it was fixed. So, rest assured, Rebellion can be repaired.”

That did make him feel better. Dante’s heart clenched. He’d thought Yamato lost too. Along with Vergil. But he was back now. As a breathing live person instead of an inanimate Devil Arm.

“Aw, you say the sweetest things, Verge~!” Dante crooned as he slipped Rebellion’s hilt into his belt loop. The shards were collected and stuffed into a leather pouch to be reforged later. Nero tossed him Sparda sword, “Use this. This belongs to you after all.” 

“Oh yeah. Thanks.”

Dante couldn’t help but glance at Vergil, wondering what he would do. His brother had been so damned determined to get this sword that belonged to their father that he raised Temenigru and opened a portal to hell. Vergil only raised a brow at him, making no move to take Sparda from him. Huh. Maybe, he really did change. Fragile hope swelled in his heart.

“Shall we make a move?” Vergil asked.

“Yeah, sounds good. With the two of us, Mundus should be a piece of cake now,” Dante replied with a grin. Nero shot him a glare, “Wait–” 

“Nero should come with us. He’s proven to be a good fighter,” Vergil suggested. Dante’s blood went cold then hot, his pulse spiking. He tightened his grip on Sparda and flatly said, “ _No_. He’s not coming. He’s not strong enough to go up against the feathery bastard.”

“Dante, you _asshole_! You think–” 

“I’ve seen Nero’s strength while we were searching for you. He dispatched a whole herd of Nobodies quite easily and he’s fairly decent with his sword. He’ll be a good asset in the fight with Mundus,” Vergil argued. 

“I don’t care if he’s able to fight a whole pack of Hell Judecca or whatever hellish beasts! Mundus is a whole different ball game! I’m not letting Nero get hurt. Like you...were. I _saw_ what he did to you on Mallet Island,” Dante hissed, absently noting that his teeth were fanged now. The dark specter of Nelo Angelo haunted him.

Vergil responded in suit, his teeth growing fanged, “You sentimental _fool_. We need all the strength we can get to fight Mundus. Nero is a full grown adult and can handle himself.”

“ _ASSHOLES. CAN YOU STOP TALKING LIKE I’M NOT HERE?!”_

“No. Nero is _not_ going. And that’s _final_ , Vergil,” Dante had grabbed Vergil’s coat. Vergil grabbed his hand and pulled it off his coat. He icily said, “Then tell me _why_ Nero should not be involved. He is not me and I am not he. My mistakes are my own to bear.”

Dante barked a bitter laugh. He quoted, “ _The son shall not bear the iniquity of the father, neither shall the father bear the iniquity of the son.”_ When Vergil stared at him in confusion, he continued, “You fucking blind idiot. He’s your _son_.”

“...What.” “...What.”

“...Shit. Did I just say that,” Dante ran his hand down his face. Fuck. He needed to chill.

 

* * *

 

Vergil stared at Nero, trying to make sense of what Dante had just said. This person was his son? _How_. Similarly, Nero was staring back at him, his lips curled in a grimace. Nero finally yelled at Dante, pointing at him with his devil arm, “You gotta be kidding me!! This asshole is my _father_?!”

Dante looked exhausted and certainly not in his best shape. Nevertheless, Vergil couldn’t stop looking at him, drinking his fill after being blind for so long as a Devil Arm. His brother and faithful caretaker waved his hand at them as he started walking away, “Hey, take it up with your old man, not me. It’s out of my hands now.”

Nero whipped his head back to glare at him, “Did you know that I’m your son?!”

Vergil raised a brow and evenly said, “It’s the first time I’ve heard of it, I assure you. Besides, I was stuck as a Devil Arm for…” He paused. How many _years_ had it been since Mallet Island? He asked Nero, “What year is it now? How old are you?” 

With a questioning look, Nero replied, “It’s 2030. I’m 25.”

Vergil did the maths. Both he and Dante were born in 1987. If Nero was 25, he was born in 2005. The same year he had raised Temenigru and then fell in Hell to be ignominiously defeated by Mundus. He had been 18 years old then. Mallet Island had been about 10 years later. So, he had been stuck as a sword for 15 years. 

... _Dante looked after me for so long…? I..._

“You said you’d been trapped as a Devil Arm…? You were that _katana_ Dante kept by his desk?!” Nero incredulously interrupted. Vergil looked back at him and scoffed, “You only realised just now?”

“Hey, old man, it’s been a real long fucking day alright?! It’s just been a series of bombshells one after another. First I learn you are Dante’s identical twin, then I learn that Yamato has teleporting magic bullshit powers, then I learn that demons can turn into Devil Arms and NOW I FIND OUT THAT YOU ARE MY _**FATHER**_ , which makes Dante my _**UNCLE**_. It only just sunk in that you were that _same_ _katana_ Dante took so much care with,” Nero finished his rant with a huff, his face red with exertion. 

“...Fair,” Vergil conceded. Nero slapped his face with both hands and pounded his fists, “Alright, easy question. Have you ever been to Fortuna?”

Fortuna? Hmm. He had been there once a long time ago before Temenigru, his great folly... Oh. That lady in red had given birth to this person before him... Vergil slowly nodded, “Once. And yes...it seems I am your father, Nero. The timing works out.”

“Okay, glad we got that sorted, _Father_ ,” Nero sardonically said. Vergil stifled a grimace. His son had inherited more than just looks from him. He’d gotten his sharp tongue too. 

Vergil glanced in the direction Dante had gone off in. He hadn’t gone far and was waiting for them, resting against a tree with his arms crossed. A vindictive amused smile floated on his lips. Right. He’d deserved that.

Turning back to Nero (he still couldn’t believe that he was his _son_ ), he explained, “Dante’s right though. Going up against Mundus will most likely be the most dangerous thing you’ve done in your life. I was defeated by him and turned into his pawn for years before Dante managed to break me free at the cost of being trapped as a Devil Arm. You could _die_. Knowing this, are you still willing to fight?”

Nero’s eyes were hard as steel as he replied without hesitation, “Yes.”

“...Then, let me ask you this. Are you able to Devil Trigger? This could be life or death.” Vergil needed to be sure that Nero had that ability. So far, he hadn’t seen him exhibit that skill. Nero froze. 

“So you don’t have the ability.” Damn it. He could not, in good conscience, allow Nero to join the fight. He would die instead. He said, “Then you are staying behind. You’d only be a hindra–”

Nero immediately protested, “No! Can you _teach_ me?”

“...Dante didn’t teach you how to Devil Trigger?” Vergil glared at Dante. Why hadn’t his brother done that?

Dante straightened up from the tree and sauntered over to them. He clarified, “I tried. But his arm seems to be preventing him from Devil Triggering. It seems like an incomplete Devil Trigger that just got stuck. Dunno how to fix it.”

“Ah.” Vergil grabbed Nero’s devil arm to examine it, using his demonic senses to feel the circulation of his son’s demonic energy. He sensed a blockage in his arm that was preventing the demonic energy from properly flowing throughout the rest of his body. So that was why he couldn’t Devil Trigger and why his arm was stuck in a permanent Devil Trigger state.

“I can fix this if you let me treat you,” Vergil offered as he let Nero’s arm go. Dante raised an eyebrow, “You can?”

“Yes. I am _more well-versed_ in demonic matters than you, Dante,” Vergil reminded him, “You’ve never enjoyed reading those books unlike me.”

“Oi. Not my fault that those books were so boring! Demons can’t write for shit.”

Nero interrupted their squabble before it could get going, “Stop _bickering_! Old man, just get on with it if you know how to fix this then!”

Vergil said, “You need acupuncture.”

“Acupuncture?” Both Nero and Dante were confused. Vergil didn’t explain further. He only unsheathed Yamato and before anyone could react, he precisely stabbed Nero in his arm where the blockage was.

“OW WHAT THE FUCKITY FUCK!” Nero yelled. Then he exploded.

 

* * *

 

Nero groaned as he came to, flat on his back. Had Nico run him over with her van? Ugh. Faintly, he heard Dante yelling, “What the FUCK, Vergil?! Acupuncture?! More like _acute puncturing_!”

“Precisely,” Vergil said. Dante spluttered, “Are you actually being _serious_?! Or are you joking?!”

“What do you think?” Vergil deadpanned. Dante spluttered some more, “...Your sense of humour sucks!”

“On the contrary, I’ve been assured it’s _killer_ ,” Vergil smugly said.

“Just...stop. _Please_ ,” Dante sounded so done.

“The hell happened,” Nero flatly said as he pushed himself up. He froze when he saw that he had claws on both hands and feet, his body covered with scales. A flash of electric blue in the corner of his eye turned out to be a pair of spectral blue hand-wings draped over his shoulders, large claws resting in between shoulder spikes. His hair had grown long as well. Reaching up, he felt two curved horns on the top of his head. He also had two bony spikes on his chin. 

He had finally Devil Triggered. But wait. How had he gotten this form…? Oh. Yeah. His asshole of a father had stabbed his arm. Both Vergil and Dante saw he was awake. They turned to him and tried to speak first, “You’re _not coming_ with us.” “You’re _coming_ with us.”

Dante turned and threw a punch at Vergil. Vergil caught it and in wordless unison, they started to brawl. Nero looked skywards, unable to believe he was related to this pair of fucking idiotic _man-children_. He demanded a refund. 

Using his new spectral wings came instinctively to him and he was so grateful for them. He used them with great relish to yank the two men apart and hoisted them up in the air, “Stop. Fighting. Like. Children. We have to stop Mundus, remember?!”

Dante insouciantly shrugged. Vergil arrogantly crossed his arms. Nero restrained the urge to fling them into the trees. Fucking assholes. Instead, he dropped them on the ground as he dropped his Devil Trigger. In a blaze of light, he changed back to his human form and...wait a minute! He stared down in delight at his right arm. It was finally human for the first time in _years_. It was almost worth learning that he was related to the assholes.

Nero then stared them down and asserted, “I’m not a hindrance nor a dead-weight. I’m _going_. Dante, you need to stop coddling me. Vergil, you may be an asshole but thanks for helping me to finally Devil Trigger.”

There was a long moment of silence as the twins looked at each other before looking back at him. Dante looked wistful but proud. He clasped Nero’s shoulder, “...Yeah, you’ve grown.” Beside him, Vergil nodded, “I was only doing my duty.”

“Okay. Now how should we handle Mundus?” Nero asked, “You’ve both fought him before, right?”

Dante and Vergil looked at each other again, wordlessly communicating through miniscule facial expressions which Nero couldn’t read. Dante finally replied, “Yeah. But it wasn’t easy. Hell, I _lost_ the last round. And as for Verge…” He glanced over again at Vergil with an unreadable look in his eyes before he continued, “Between the two of us, we’ve only got one win, and even then, I couldn’t kill Mundus.”

Vergil mirthlessly chuckled, “At least you did better than I did.”

“Alright, stop there! If we go in thinking we’re gonna lose, we are going to lose. So start thinking about how we can _win_. Like, what do we know about Mundus’ moves and skills? Any weaknesses we can exploit?” Nero urged. There must be a way to kill Mundus. “Between the two of you, you already know what Mundus’ moves are and what to look out for. So, come up with a strategy. Aren’t you both sons of Sparda the legendary dark knight?”

“...You’re one of Sparda’s line too, you realise? He’s your grandfather.” Dante dryly quipped. Nero paused. Oh...right. Wow. That was fucking weird. 

Vergil sniffed, “There’s no point in making a strategy. He always changes up his attacks just when you think you’ve got him. Just strike hard and fast without giving him a chance to retaliate and avoid his attacks when you can.”

“...Yeah. But since there’s three of us this time, it should be easier. Maybe one of us can do the defending, make sure that no attacks hit us while the other two do the attacking? We could take turns,” Dante replied thoughtfully. 

“That might work,” Vergil said. He eyed Nero and commented, “Perhaps, you should do the defending.”

Assuming that he was being benched again, Nero bristled, “Why?”

Instead of Vergil, it was Dante who responded, “Mundus’s moves are both fast and strong. We’ll be drawing the brunt of his attacks while attacking him. While we can avoid most, there’ll be some we can’t dodge. It’ll be your job to prevent those from hitting. You’re our safety net.”

“...Oh,” Nero swallowed. That was a daunting task. Dante smiled, “Are you up for it?”

“Yeah. Just make sure his attacks don’t hit you. Got it.” No, Nero wasn’t sure if he could really do it. He’d only just gotten his Devil Trigger and if even Dante nor Vergil could beat Mundus, what hope did he have? He suddenly felt pain in his shin and yelped, “Ow!” 

Vergil had smacked him on his shin with Yamato’s scabbard. Shooting him a dirty glare, Nero rubbed his shin. Seeing that he had gotten his attention, Vergil said, “Just focus on your job and do it the best you can. We’ll do ours. Besides, you’ve got _four_ arms now.”

“Yeah, you’ll be fine!” Dante agreed. “If you get overwhelmed, we can pitch in.”

Nero did feel more reassured with Dante’s and Vergil’s encouragement. He nodded, “Okay, sounds like a plan! Shall we go fight Mundus now?”

“Yep.” “Yes.” With Yamato, Vergil slashed open a portal. All three Spardas stepped through it to face Mundus.

Time to defeat Mundus once and for all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stupid Sparda Shenanigans. Comments and Kudos are much appreciated! ❤️


	5. Chapter 5

When the trio emerged from the portal, they found themselves in the middle of a grassy field full of white flowers. Sun beat down upon them from the blue sky. Dante and Nero were confused, not expecting to see this scenery. This field had not been here when they last fought Mundus. Dante squinted, shading his eyes from bright sun. He said, “Where the _hell…_? This wasn’t here the last time. I’m also pretty sure we’re still inside the Qliphoth so there shouldn’t be any _sun_. Where’s the feathery bastard?”

Mundus was nowhere to be seen. Nero readied his gun, his eyes flicking around the empty field until he spotted a lone tree in the distance. He informed the other two, “Hey, what’s that tree over there?”

Due to having spent time in Hell along with an extensive library of arcane knowledge in his mind, Vergil quickly realised what was going on. He explained, “This is an illusion. A very powerful one generated by the fruit.” 

He pointed Yamato at the lone tree in the distance and further elaborated, “That is the real fruit of the Qliphoth tree. Mundus must be close by.”

“Huh. Never figured that Mundus liked flowers,” Dante sardonically said as he ran a hand over one of the flowers beside them. “...These are asphodels, aren’t they?” 

“Impressive you got them right on the first try,” Vergil dryly said. “You always mixed up calla lilies with spider lilies when we were young.”

“...Hey! They are both called _lilies_! How was I supposed to tell the difference?!” Dante hissed, his cheeks going red in mortification. But he wasn’t truly angry. He was just glad that Vergil was here. 

Vergil snorted, “One would have thought you’d have quickly learned after accidentally killing both flowers because you gave them the wrong amount of water. But you kept doing it again and again. Our mother was not too happy.”

Dante flushed harder, “I learned! I even have a plant growing in my shop and all!”

“Oh, is that so…? I must see it with my own eyes,” Vergil archly replied, amused by Dante’s reactions. Dante huffed, “Fine, I’ll make you eat your words! After we kick Mundus’s feathery butt!”

While the brothers bantered, Nero took a moment to observe them. It was the first time he had seen Dante so unguarded. While Dante was usually easygoing, there had always been a faint sense of detachment as though he was keeping them at arm’s length, never letting them get any closer beyond a certain point. Nero hadn’t pressed too hard on Trish’s and Lady’s advice to let it be. Should he have pressed harder? Perhaps.

As for Vergil — he was his father, how crazy was that? — he hadn’t gotten to know him for all that long, but he already could tell that he was more relaxed compared to earlier this morning. Less surly for sure.

Nero’s curiosity was piqued and he wanted to know more about his newfound family _._ But unfortunately, it wasn’t the right time and someone had to do the work around here. As he started walking over to the lone tree, he reminded the others, “Hey, come on! We should try to find Mundus.”

Dante broke off the impromptu staredown match with Vergil on hearing Nero’s reminder. He looked over to where Nero was and sauntered over, “Yeah, sounds good.”

Vergil rolled his eyes and followed. 

As they got closer to the lone tree, the landscape suddenly distorted into a hellish landscape and Mundus loomed above them, his wings spread and arms crossed. He imperiously looked down on them and announced, “The fruit belongs to me alone, rightful King of Hell! Begone, vermin!”

“Already forgotten about us, huh?” Dante drawled as he readied Sparda. Mundus glared, “...You! How did you come back, son of Sparda?”

“You need to be more specific,” Vergil chimed in as he unsheathed Yamato, “There’s myself as well.”

“...Hah! So you both came crawling back from the brink. Futile! Whether it’s one or two of you, you are _nothing_ before my power!” Mundus proudly said, shooting a ball of energy towards them. Dante and Vergil did nothing to defend themselves. The energy projectile exploded mid-way, having been disrupted by a bullet. Nero smirked, “Hey, don’t forget about me too! There’s _three_ of us.”

“Jeez, cutting it a bit close there, kid,” Dante complained, “That could have singed my hair.”

“Fuck off, Dante. Let me have my moment!” Nero shot back, flipping him the finger. Vergil looked quietly amused even as he kept a cautious eye on Mundus. 

“...A _third_? You have Sparda’s blood?” Mundus’s face looked momentarily bemused before he roared, “All the better! Sparda’s bloodline will be extinguished here by my hand!” 

Mundus waved his arm to summon orbs that sprayed energy spikes at them.

“Let’s see you try!”

The battle had started.

 

* * *

 

As planned, both Dante and Vergil took Mundus head on. Having fought him before, they were more familiar with Mundus’ moves. Their experience stood them in good stead as they attacked Mundus, twin blurs of red and blue as their swords flashed. 

Meanwhile, Nero aimed for Mundus’ orbs. He thinned them out with both Blue Rose and Red Queen, gunshots cracking loudly alongside the engine’s roar. Cracks appeared on Mundus’s stone skin but they were little more than surface damage. There was nothing else but to keep chipping away at Mundus until they broke his stone skin to reveal his true core. 

“You!”

Mundus had finally realised that Nero had been destroying his orbs. He turned his attention on him, raising his arm to direct lightning at him.

_Shit! I can’t block that!_

Nero was forced to abandon his position, desperately fleeing Mundus’s crackling lightning bolts, the smell of burning ozone thick in the air and his skin tingling with static electricity. Dante hissed, “Fuck, he caught on!”

Dante promptly transformed into his devil form in an explosion of red and swooped up to slash at Mundus’ eyes to draw attention away from Nero, his wings flaring wide to paint himself as a target. Mundus roared, incensed that this irritant tried to blind him. He swatted at Dante with a gigantic hand. Nero finally escaped, wisely saving his Devil Trigger for later to avoid running out of energy too quickly. Vergil was tense, watching Dante dodge Mundus’ hits by a hair’s breadth. As much as he wanted to help, he knew that it would only disrupt Dante’s focus in dodging the attacks. 

_No...wait. This is familiar!_

Vergil realised what was happening with sinking dread. Mundus was using the same tricks he had used before when he fought him in Hell years ago. The demon lord was trying to tire Dante out before trapping him with his vines. Indeed, Dante was starting to flag from the prolonged chase. The vines would appear soon. He had no idea where Nero was now hiding in the battlefield, the chaotic demonic energies too frenetic to get a bead on his presence. Dante was too far away to hear him. So that left only one course of action.

Devil triggering in a burst of blue, Vergil teleported to intercept Mundus’ vines that erupted from the ground. With a swing of Yamato, he cut the majority of vines, preventing them from hitting Dante behind him. But there were still some that attempted to strike Dante from a different angle. He couldn’t block those from his current position. Cursing, he grabbed hold of one of Dante’s wings and pulled him out of the way. Blood sprayed.

“ _Vergil! No!_ ”

As soon as Dante managed to right his position after being tossed out of harm’s way, he saw Vergil pierced through by vines. Even though those kind of injuries were easy for them to recover from, this was _different_. It was bone-chilling to see black veins of corruption creep up Vergil’s exposed skin. Mundus laughed, “Ahh, _you_ again. Even if I didn’t manage to catch Dante, you’ll do. You were such a good servant, Nelo Angelo.”

Dante howled in rage. Not again! 

Desperate, he dove towards Vergil, sword raised to cut through the vines that pierced his brother’s limp body. But to his dismay, more vines shot up from the ground to bar his way, cutting off his line of sight from Vergil. Mundus threw more boulders and electric spikes at him, forcing him on the defensive. Hoping that his brother was still conscious somehow and fighting back against Mundus’ corruption, Dante roared, “ _Vergil!_ ” 

Meanwhile, Nero had just recovered his breath when he heard Dante’s enraged roar. It made him shiver; he had never heard him sound so furious and so... _desperate_. He was currently perched in one of the hell trees in order to get a bird’s eye view of the battlefield and to hide from Mundus more effectively. Looking in the direction of Dante’s roar, he saw his red devil form frantically fighting his way through a barrage of boulders and yellow spikes that crackled with energy and a thick wall of thorny vines. Wondering where Vergil was, he spotted a black sphere in the middle of the thorny vines. Despite his weaker demonic senses, he could sense a foul miasma emanating from it and it made him break out into goosebumps. 

Oh shit, was Vergil in there?! That would explain Dante’s desperation. Nero immediately jumped down from the tree and ran over to the wall of vines, tamping down his presence as much as he could to avoid Mundus’ notice. Luckily, Mundus was too focused on Dante to take notice of Nero cutting down the vines to approach the black sphere.

With Dante distracting Mundus, it thankfully didn’t take Nero long before he finally reached the sphere. He punched it, hoping to break it but it had no effect, his fist throbbing in pain. Blue Rose and Red Queen also failed to work. He cursed in frustration. 

Wait, could Sparda sword work? But how could he get the sword from Dante when he was busy fighting Mundus? A loud cracking noise distracted Nero from his thoughts. When he turned to look, he cursed.

The sphere was cracking, a black armoured hand emerging from it. Trusting his gut instincts, Nero quickly ran to put some distance between him and the sphere before whatever was inside emerged. 

The sphere shattered. Vergil, or rather, Nelo Angelo, ashen as a corpse with blank red eyes, stood in black armour, Yamato forgotten on the ground and replaced by a large greatsword. Alerted by the successful transformation, Mundus stopped his attacks on Dante and flew higher up. He gloated as the weary Dante reverted back to his human form, “Haha! My dark knight Nelo Angelo returns! Can you fight him again, I wonder? Knowing that it’s your _dear brother_?”

Despite his exhaustion from fighting off Mundus’ attacks, Dante stood straight and stared at Nelo Angelo with an unreadable expression as his aura roiled around him like flames. His eyes flashed red as he growled at Mundus, “You and your dirty tricks…I’ll tear you to _shreds_.”

Mundus only laughed. Obeying Mundus’s unspoken order, Nelo Angelo swiftly struck with his greatsword. Dante parried it and hit back, a determined snarl on his face. Expressionless, Nelo Angelo expertly avoided the blow and sent blue summoned swords at him which were batted away. Evenly matched, the two fought a deadly dance as Mundus watched on, enjoying the spectacle.

Nero was both grateful and irked that Mundus had seemingly forgotten about him, too busy gloating over the other two. Spotting Yamato on the ground where the black sphere had been, he quickly dashed over and picked it up. 

Okay, now what next? As if answering his question, Yamato glowed in his hand and tugged in the direction of Dante and Nelo Angelo’s battle. Nero wasn’t sure what Yamato was trying to tell him but he figured why the hell not? The situation was already all fucked up to hell and there weren’t many other options. So Nero followed Yamato’s urging and threw it like a javelin at Dante, “Catch!”

Dante heard Nero’s shout and he instinctively snatched Yamato out of the air. Vergil’s sword hummed in his grasp, wanting to be used in the fight. Nelo Angelo had paused in his attack, allowing him to catch Yamato. Hope fluttered in his chest; was Vergil trying to fight Mundus’ control somehow? Mundus stopped gloating, displeased that Nero interfered. He glanced around searching for him but Nero had already hidden himself once again. 

_Atta kid._

Dante switched weapons. Strapping Sparda sword to his back, he held Yamato at his hip. He taunted Nelo Angelo, “Wake up, Verge. Are you going to stay asleep and let yourself be used as a puppet again?”

No reply. Oh well, that had been a long shot. Mundus’ control was powerful after all. He shot forward, Yamato trailing silver. Nelo Angelo closed the distance as well, fast despite the heavy armour.

As Yamato wasn’t built for brute heavy blows like Rebellion or Sparda sword, Dante switched up his swordplay style. Sparda had taught both of them how to use both Rebellion and Yamato as children and he still remembered how to wield Yamato even if the sword was not his preferred weapon. 

But Nelo Angelo countered his moves easily. Of course, he still had _Vergil’s_ skills which meant that he knew Yamato’s moves well. Nelo Angelo had the upper edge. Dante was slowly losing to him in speed and strength. Eventually, Nelo Angelo knocked Yamato out of his hand and contemptuously crushed his neck in a repeat of what had happened years ago on Mallet Island, slamming him into the ground. Choking and seeing black spots, he had no leverage and couldn’t pull Sparda sword out from under his back. Nelo Angelo raised his greatsword above him, preparing to stab him. 

“Stop! Bastard, snap out of it!” Nero yelled as he blocked the greatsword with one of his blue spectral wing arms and yanked Dante out of harm’s way with the other wing arm. Nelo Angelo growled and pulled his weapon away. Mundus watched on but made no move; annoyed but intrigued by the new turn of events. 

Dante coughed, his crushed larynx healing, sharp twinges of pain shooting through him. When he could finally speak, he sternly told Nero in a hoarse voice, “Stay out of this! I can’t let you fight your father!”

“No! That’s Vergil right? He knows your moves too well! I’ll beat Mundus’ corruption out of him! He doesn’t know what I can do,” Nero sharply argued, his wing arms flaring above him and punching their fists together.

Dante’s eyes flashed red, his red demonic aura gathering around him in preparation for another transformation. Nero tensed, his blue aura gathering to trigger as well. Then Dante’s aura dissipated as his shoulders slumped in defeat, “Ah hell, you’re _right_. He does know my moves far too well.”

He looked back at Nelo Angelo with a clenched jaw and anguish etched in the weary lines on his face. Then with resigned reluctance, Dante patted Nero’s shoulder, “Good luck.” He weakly joked, “He may or not be a deadbeat father but try not to beat him dead.”

“I’ll try,” Nero replied firmly, his eyes bright with determination. Nelo Angelo had planted the greatsword in the ground as he waited for them to finish talking. His pale face was still eerily blank like a doll. Seeing that Nero would be his new opponent, the dark knight plucked Yamato from the ground and threw it at Nero. 

Nero caught it. Yamato hummed in his grasp. He muttered under his breath to the sword, “Yeah, good to have you again. Time to get Vergil back.”

Nero strapped Red Queen to his back. With Yamato in hand, he leapt forward to take on the dark knight. Nelo Angelo answered his challenge with a swing of the greatsword.

As the two fought, Mundus watched on with narrowed eyes. He had not anticipated this outcome. So how strong was this newcomer? Nero had claimed to be of Sparda’s bloodline but he felt _weaker_ than the other two; his demonic heritage not as strong. Nero actually felt _human_ , more so than the other two. What ignominy to have such a glorious demonic bloodline frittered away in weak human filth! 

Then Nero unexpectedly scored a hit. His aim true, Yamato slipped past Nelo Angelo’s guard to pierce his shoulder. Nelo Angelo roared as he reeled back, teeth bared in a snarl. Nero crowed in triumph, “ _Gotcha_! Wake up, Vergil!”

Mundus finally raised his hand to summon more orbs to attack Nero. Nero was turning out to be far more dangerous than he thought. Dante swiftly sliced them apart. Pointing Sparda sword at Mundus, he snarled, “Bad enough that I’m letting the punk take this fight, but letting you play more dirty tricks? No _way_.”

“How dare you!” Mundus growled.

“Let’s dance, just you and me,” Dante taunted, the shadow of his devil form hovering over him. Mundus wordlessly attacked.

Meanwhile, Nero pressed his assault, not giving Nelo Angelo a chance to recover. Impeded by his injury, Nelo Angelo could not swing his weapon as hard or as quickly as before. But he was still dangerous, using his summoned swords to fend Nero off. 

_Enough!_

Nero growled, his eyes flashing yellow as his wing arms bashed the swords into smithereens. Finally getting close enough, he grabbed the greatsword with both wing arms as he slammed Yamato through Nelo Angelo’s armour. 

Black miasma exploded from Nelo Angelo, the heavy armour falling off and melting into sulphurous smoke. The greatsword shattered like glass. Nero watched warily, keeping Yamato inside as it purged Mundus’ corruption. Had he _succeeded…_?

Once the black miasma finally cleared, Nelo Angelo’s eyes were no longer red, the armour gone. Vergil coughed, spitting out the last of the black miasma. He gripped Yamato’s hilt and slowly raised his head with a tired smile, “...Well done, Nero.”

Relief flooding through him, Nero finally let go of Yamato and he shrugged, “About time! Let’s go back to kicking Mundus’ ass!”

There was no reply from Vergil. He had sunk to his knees, pale as blood flowed from his wound. His healing was much slower than usual. Breaking Dante out of his Devil Arm state with his blood, being corrupted by Mundus and then purged with Yamato in short succession were taking their toll on him. His consciousness wavered and he could feel his body breaking up in blue shards. Instinctively, he knew that he was reverting to his Devil Arm state. There was no telling whether he would still retain his consciousness or be able to take on his human form again. But there was still one more thing he _had_ to do.

Nero’s eyes widened. He quickly knelt and grasped his father’s shoulders, “Vergil, what’s wrong?!” 

“Nero. _Use_ me to kill Mundus,” Vergil ordered as his form glowed blue before reshaping itself. A familiar katana fell down in Vergil’s place. Nero’s jaw clenched. He picked up Vergil and turned towards where Dante and Mundus fought. He finally understood why Dante had been so overprotective over this _sword_. This was...Vergil. His father. 

“...Gotcha.”

Nero finally devil triggered and flew towards Dante and Mundus with Vergil in hand. This was no time to hold back.

As Dante’s battle with Mundus raged across the charred and wrecked landscape, Dante suddenly felt Vergil’s presence flicker and then sputter out. No. No no nononononono!! He had only just gotten Vergil back! And he was now gone…? For _real_? Distracted and distraught, Dante was too slow to block one of Mundus’ attacks.

Nero blocked it. He smacked Dante with Vergil’s scabbard, “Hey, focus! The fight’s not over!”

“...Brat.” Dante halfheartedly said as he recognised Vergil’s Devil Arm form in Nero’s hands. His brother’s presence flickered faintly. Vergil was still alive…! That was good. But could he still change back…? He shoved all questions to the back of his mind for later. Nero was right, he couldn’t lose focus now in this fight with Mundus. Mundus snarled, furious that Nero had defeated his dark knight. This person was a much bigger threat than he had foreseen. Prioritising Nero over Dante, he bombarded him with a volley of spikes. Dante jumped to Nero’s aid, swinging Sparda sword to bat them away as Nero used Vergil to cut them in mid-air. 

Handling Vergil wasn’t too different from Yamato but with some crucial differences. For one, his attacks were much stronger and had longer reach. Nero was also able to form blue projectiles like Vergil and spammed these to disrupt Mundus’ waves of spikes. In between each wave, Nero flew closer to Mundus so he could slash away his stone skin, steadily chipping his skin away with Vergil’s sharp edge. Dante covered him, protecting him from any stray attacks that Nero might have missed.

Nero eventually glimpsed an orange pulsating mass within the stone skin and he viciously grinned, “Looks like you’re getting what you wanted, Vergil!”

Mundus roared. Moving faster than Nero expected due to his now ironically lighter mass, the demon king swatted at him with a large wing. Eyes wide, Nero frantically swung Vergil to block the attack but Dante yelled, “Nero! Don’t! Vergil will _die_ if he _breaks_!”

 _Shit._

Nero pulled back Vergil and tried to brace himself for the blow. But it didn’t come. Dante had flown in front of him, taking the brunt of Mundus’ blow. Sparda sword cracked. Then it shattered. The tip of one of Mundus’ stone pinion feathers pierced through Dante. Nero watched in horror as Dante fell, trailing blood as his devil form broke apart. Vergil thrummed in his hand. Nero flew down, trying to catch Dante before he hit the ground. His fingertips grazed the edges of Dante’s coat but missed. 

Dante crashed to the earth. Broken and bleeding, he could barely move. Still clutching the shattered Sparda sword, his mouth was filled with the coppery taste of warm blood, his lungs pierced through by his shattered ribs. The mere act of breathing was agony. He couldn’t feel his legs; that feather had cut his spine. His vision swam and he dimly realised that his healing wasn’t kicking in fast enough. He’d only just woken up from a month long coma as a Devil Arm after all… Was he going to become a Devil Arm again? Better than _dying_ , he thought.

Nero finally landed near Dante. Mundus had thankfully stopped attacking, retreating to heal his wounds, but there was no telling when he would resume his attacks. He quickly knelt beside Dante and tried to heal him with a green orb. But Dante weakly shook his head, “No. Save it for yourself.”

“You need it more than I do right now!” Nero protested. Vergil continued to thrum. Dante snorted, “...Nah. Tell you what, you _use_ me to kill Mundus as well, okay...?”

Dante’s body glowed, breaking apart into red shards that reformed into a familiar red claymore. Vergil stopped thrumming. Then, the katana violently tugged itself out of Nero’s hands, clattering to the ground and rolling to clank against the claymore before Nero could react. 

For a long moment, nothing happened. Then, in a flash of light, the two swords fused, merging into a jian. Intimidatingly large like a claymore but with the elegance of a katana. The surface of its large blade was covered with a tessellated pattern of rhombi reminiscent of scales. Its hilt was similarly patterned with red and blue stones embedded in its pommel. A black shiny scabbard lay beside it.

Nero picked up the jian and its scabbard. He had no idea if he could fight Mundus alone. He was _terrified_. The jian pulsed. Whoa. The new jian that was the combined Devil Arm form of Dante and Vergil felt _powerful_. Way more than Sparda sword actually. So...maybe he could do this?

The jian glowed brightly and Nero felt his devil form ripple, sprouting a second set of wings, his horns growing longer to curve round his chin and spikes growing on his joints. When he checked his reflection in the shiny surface of the scabbard, he realised that he looked like _Sparda_. Huh. Weird flex but okay. He sure felt powerful enough to take Mundus on now. 

“Okay, let’s do this,” he muttered to the sword as he flew up to fight Mundus once more. This would be their final battle. Mundus’s stone exterior was already mostly closed up again whrn he saw Nero. His eyes grew wide and he uttered in disbelief, “... _Sparda_?!”

“Close, but no dice. I’m his grandson,” Nero jibed. He zoomed forward as he declared, “Hello, my name is Nero. You tried to kill my father and uncle. Prepare to die.”

Nero thought he heard a laugh and a groan. 

Gifted with Vergil’s speed and Dante’s strength, Nero was untouchable. The sheer power the sword gave him was heady but he remained focused. He couldn’t afford to be careless. Easily dodging and blocking Mundus’ attacks, he swooped in and out to claw, smash and cut away his stone skin. Mundus’s voice grew shrill in panic as his attacks failed to hit Nero with increasingly more of his protective armour falling off. 

In short order, Mundus’ true form was revealed; an ugly orange pulsating mass of tentacles and eyes. Without his stone wings, the demon king plummeted to the earth. Nero pursued, the jian pointed downwards for a lethal strike. Red and blue swords swirled around him, threshing the boulders and spikes that Mundus tried to throw at him in a last ditch effort to kill him as he fell. 

Mundus’ large mass cratered the earth. Before the demon king could move, Nero landed on him with all his weight and momentum, slamming the jian through his core. Still trying to attack Nero with his tentacles, the dying demon king roared, “ _Sparda! Curse you…!”_

Nero pushed the jian deeper as he growled, “Just die already, Cthulu!”

The spasming of Mundus’ tentacles gradually weakened until they finally stilled, his eyes clouding over. The demon king was finally dead. 

“...God. That was fucking tiring.” Nero yanked out the jian and climbed off the large corpse as it started to break up into shards. How long had the entire battle with Mundus been? It couldn’t have been more than an hour but it felt like _ages_. When he let his devil trigger drop, he was hit by sheer exhaustion and it was so _hard_ trying to stay awake.

Slapping his face, Nero forced himself to stay alert. There were still some loose ends left to tie up. Like that Qliphoth fruit hanging on the lone tree, getting rid of the Qliphoth roots and of course...helping Dante and Vergil regain their human forms once more.

When Nero looked down at the sword that was both Dante and Vergil, he wondered if they were still aware and awake inside. He couldn’t sense anything...

With a shake of his head, he carefully resheathed the jian and placed it on his back beside Red Queen. He then made his way over to the lone tree and plucked the Qliphoth fruit. It was grotesque, a fleshy black netting covering a bloody core. As it pulsed in his hand, he wondered what the hell to do with it.

Wait...there was a rumbling noise. It was coming _fast_. Nero turned and saw a familiar van zooming up to him. It screeched to a halt bare inches away from him. Popping her head out of the driver’s window, Nico flipped him the finger, “Asshole! You _ditched_ me! You’re so fucking lucky that I ran into Trish and Lady earlier,” – she paused and stared at one of the tentacles that still remained – “Is that...Nah, I can’t use it. Too floppy.”

“...I knew I was forgetting something,” Nero sheepishly said. He was supposed to call Nico and meet the other two at the root of the Qliphoth. Oops.

“Ugh, what would you do without me? Let’s get the hell out of dodge before the tree collapses. Trish and Lady should have finished cutting down the tree root by now,” Nico replied with a roll of her eyes as she opened the door, “Get in!”

"Thanks. I owe you one." Nero said as he hopped in. 

"Yeah, buy me a cuppa.” Nico grouched as she started driving. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter killed me. @_@ Please do comment or leave kudos, thank you!! 
> 
> [Jian](https://mymodernmet.com/sword-of-goujian/) \- This is what I imagine the sword to look like.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this is a special chapter because this is actually 2 chapters in 1! You can choose whichever one you want to read first. Have fun and please do comment or leave kudos if you enjoyed it!

Back at Devil May Cry, Nero filled in the others on the long series of events that happened within the span of one very long day. The longest and craziest day of his life.

Finally coming to the end of his story, he gestured to the jian on the desk, “...And that’s Dante and Vergil fused together right now. I’ve got no idea how to fix them.”

Beside him, Nico snorted, “Easy peasy. You still got the Qliphoth on ya, right? Feed it to them! You’ve told us that they need blood to heal. And Trish already explained that this spooky fruit contains, what, thousands of humans’ blood? And it allowed Mungus-chungus become King of Hell by granting him godlike power. Macabre but it would definitely work. Safer too. No offense but I don’t think you have enough power to release them from their state.”

On the other side of the desk, Trish nodded in agreement, “Nico’s correct. I’m not sure if it would work...but it does make sense. Do what she says.”

“Lady, your thoughts…?” Nero asked as he turned his attention to Lady beside Trish. Lady put her hands akimbo on her hips as she shrugged, “You gotta get rid of the fruit sooner or later. Otherwise, demons will come knocking, wanting to take a bite of the forbidden fruit. Might as well use it on the sword like Nico says.”

“...Okay.” Nero took out the fruit from his pocket. It pulsed like a heart in his hands. He really hoped that this was gonna work because otherwise, he was all out of options. Holding the fruit up, he crushed it, squeezing out viscous red liquid that dripped down onto the sword. Once the fruit was completely drained, Nero wiped his hands down the surface, letting the sword absorb all traces of the liquid. 

When nothing happened, panic swelled inside him. Shit shit shit, had they messed up?! But luckily, before Nero really started to _panic_ , the sword started to glow white as the liquid was absorbed. 

_Oh fucking whew. It was working!_

Sagging in relief, Nero stood back like the others did. A safe distance away, they waited for Dante and Vergil to separate.

 

* * *

 

Red or Blue?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Seamlessly entwined as one, there was no need for words. Not only merged in body, their minds and wills were combined, allowing their individual memories and thoughts to be shared within their golden sanctuary. Long suppressed truths were revealed and accepted. Emotions swelled and ebbed in synchronity. Push and pull, it was a duet, a joyful dance of two parts coming together as a whole. 

In this intimate union, they were invincible, their combined strength multiplied. They had never known they could be so strong together. The sheer power was intoxicating but they agreed that it had to be wielded carefully. No one would use them without their consent, never again. 

They did not want to separate. To cleave them apart would be cruel. After experiencing this perfect unity, nothing else could compare… 

Then the dream ended.

 

* * *

 

Dante woke up warm and cosy in bed. Cool crystalline light filtered into the room through the blinds and there was a faint smell of rain in the air. Sitting up with a yawn, he shivered a little from the slight chill. Swinging his feet off the bed, he recoiled with a loud yelp when he felt the icy hell his floorboards had become. 

Fuck it, he was gonna stay in his cosy and warm bed. Rainy days were made for staying in. But Vergil had heard him. His brother called out, “What happened?”

Before he could reply, he heard Vergil’s familiar footsteps swiftly approach his bedroom. Without knocking, Vergil opened the door with a frown on his face. Dante sheepishly shrugged, “Nothing. Just wasn’t expecting the floor to be so cold.”

Ever since they defeated Mundus and their subsequent successful separation thanks to the Qliphoth fruit, Vergil now lived with Dante in Devil May Cry. Dante was still adjusting, too used to living alone, well, not alone exactly but Vergil had been an inanimate Devil Arm all this while. It was...weird to have someone living with him now. Especially his...brother whom he had looked after as a...sword. He still hadn’t asked Vergil about what it’d been like for him and if he still remembered his inane rambling. He was too embarrassed.

Vergil stared at him with narrowed eyes. Then he snorted in amusement, “False alarm then.”

“Yeah. So huh, you got something on today?” He questioned, shifting under his blankets. Vergil was fully dressed up, including the coat, boots and spats. In contrast, Dante had only a pair of boxers on. Maybe he should get dressed too. 

Vergil rolled his eyes at him, “ _Sleepyhead_ , it’s already past noon. I was up manning the desk all morning while you slept.”

“...Oh.” Dante didn’t keep a clock in his room so he couldn’t tell time. But he took Vergil’s word for it; his brother was very particular about time and had always been a light sleeper compared to him. Then, his eyes widened, “Hey, why didn’t you wake me up then?!”

“I tried. Three times. But you were too deep asleep. You also seemed like you were having a good dream,” Vergil patiently replied. He inclined his head at the bed, “So after the failed third attempt, I decided to let you sleep till you finally woke up.”

Recalling the dream, Dante deliberately kept his reaction off his face. Oh _shit_ , he hoped that he hadn’t been sleeptalking while he slept. He wasn’t yet ready to deal with Vergil’s reaction once he knew what his dream had been about. Instead, he rubbed his head, “Hell, you should still have woken me up anyway! You shouldn’t have to do my job!” 

Bracing himself for the icy floor, he hopped off and with muttered cursing, he quickly tiptoed over to his wardrobe to fetch his clothes. 

“Maybe you should consider getting some carpets.” Vergil dryly commented as he leaned against the doorway. Dante bent over to yank on a pair of jeans and then shrugged on a henley over his head. Tugging the shirt down, he shook his head, “Nah. I don’t spend a lot of time here contrary to what you might think. Besides, laundry bills would be killer with carpets.”

“Fair. Then, bedroom slippers?” Vergil suggested. Dante grabbed his coat and laughed, “Fluffy bedroom slippers? Maybe! But they totally don’t go with my badass image.”

“...You’ve never cared about whether or not it makes you look _ridiculous_. That coat you wore as a teen was horrific.”

“Terrific, you mean!” Dante pulled on the coat and jabbed at him, “Besides, that _cravat?_ Never letting you live it down!”

Brief silence. Vergil finally conceded with a rueful smile, “Touchè.” 

Dante fist-pumped with a grin. 

 

* * *

 

Dante surreptitiously observed Vergil from behind the magazine he held up in front of his face. Vergil was currently cleaning Yamato, removing any traces of dried bloodstains or mud that might still have lingered after their recent mission earlier this afternoon. Focused in his task, he was methodical as he carefully wiped the blade down with a fine-grain sandpaper sheet, scrubbing off a miniscule bloodstain. 

“I know you’re staring. What is it?” Vergil asked as he switched the sandpaper out for a soft cloth. He carefully ran the soft material down the blade, picking up the last traces of dirt as he waited for Dante’s reply.

Dante swallowed. Putting down the magazine, he awkwardly rambled, “Nothing really. Just thinking that it’s been a while since Mundus bit the dust and it’s starting to get real quiet now that most of the demons that invaded are getting killed off… Not much work left for us, you know...?”

His eyes rested on the empty space where Sparda sword used to be. Rebellion, miraculously fixed, rested against his desk. Gaining new steam, Dante continued, “You know, Mom’s amulets were used to turn Force Edge into Sparda sword. That sword and the amulets are now part of us. Ironic.”

As usual, Dante chickened out of broaching the real topic he wanted to talk about. Did Vergil still remember what it had been like when they were merged together? The time when they’d been intertwined in body, mind and soul and how _right_ it felt. A wave of yearning came over him and he quickly clamped down on it before it showed on his face.

Vergil paused in his cleaning. Shit, had his thoughts shown on his face?! Dante’s mind was a chaotic mess of half-thought excuses. He picked up the magazine again and studiously flipped through it, hoping that Vergil wouldn’t push.

“...You already shared that knowledge with me.” Vergil finally said as he sped up with the last step of maintaining Yamato, giving it an oiled rub down before resheathing it. It was almost hasty, unlike Vergil’s earlier methodical manner.

Putting Yamato down on the coffee table, Vergil gave Dante an enigmatic look, his jaw tight. It looked like he had a lot of things on his mind but wasn’t ready to speak of them yet. Dante was too chicken to ask what he was thinking. Not for the first time, he wished that they were still bound together as one. It had been so much easier, their thoughts and memories seamlessly shared. So many things he had not known and now regretted. If he’d been more understanding and patient with Vergil on the tower, would things have changed…? Well, the time for such regrets had already passed. Now separate and alone as Dante, he was incomplete. 

He wondered. Did Vergil also feel it? The nagging sense of being incomplete was ever present during his waking moments save for when he was asleep. That dull aching sensation was bone deep and all encompassing. It was one of the most uncomfortable experiences Dante had and it seemed that there was no way to stop it.

Vergil looked away and changed the topic, “You ought to stop being so charitable. You’re running a business and you need that cash to maintain a respectable standard of living. Such as having a water supply, heating and electricity. Not to mention your pizza habit.”

“...Hey!” Dante weakly protested. “The others need the money more than me.”

Raising a sardonic brow, Vergil scoffed, “You’re undervaluing yourself and the work you do. To be frank...they’re only leeching off your generosity. You do realise that they could afford it?”

So what? It wasn’t like he urgently needed the money. He could live without food and water if necessary. He didn’t really mind so much whether or not the people cheated him; he wasn’t in it for profit in the first place. Dante shrugged, “Like I said...they need the cash more than we do.” 

Irritated, Vergil narrowed his eyes and growled, “Always like this with you. You’re far too selfless for your own good. I still remember...how you almost bankrupted yourself with that sword stand for me when I was stuck as a Devil Arm. You should look after yourself more.”

Dante flushed. Oh hell, Vergil had been _aware_? All this time?! This was the first time his brother spoke of his experience as a Devil Arm. Seeing his obvious blush, Vergil gentled his tone, “I appreciated it. But you didn’t have to do that for me. I do not need such luxurious accessories when it’s at your expense.”

A faint smile played on Vergil’s lips. It made Dante want to do _something_. But what…? His mind was drawing a blank. He raised the magazine higher to hide his face as he mumbled, “Okay. Gotcha.”

“So, will you start charging _proper_ fees?” Vergil demanded firmly. God, it was _easier_ when his brother was just a sword and didn’t nag him constantly, he uncharitably thought. Actually, no, he’d rather have his nagging than face the lonely silence once more.

“...Yeah, I’ll start charging properly. Satisfied now?” Dante relented, bending to his brother’s demand. Vergil was just looking out for him...and yeah, maybe he should have been more mercantile in his business. Then he wouldn’t have been in deep shit during those last few months before Mundus’ invasion.

Vergil nodded approvingly, “Good. I won’t tell you how to run the rest of your business but I absolutely insist on you getting paid what you deserve for all the hard work you’ve done. It’s only fair.”

“...And what about you? What are you going to do? You can’t possibly help me run Devil May Cry right? You’ve got your...own thing…” Dante asked, lowering the magazine. Vergil had always had his own agenda and preferred to go solo apart from him. He didn’t like the idea that his brother might, one day, choose to leave. But...he wouldn’t stop him if he really wanted to leave. So long as Vergil wasn’t somewhere unreachable, like say, Hell.

Vergil stilled and gave him another cryptic look. Fuck, had he pressed too hard? His brother eventually replied, “I haven’t decided yet. I will let you know when I’ve decided.”

Thankfully, he didn’t seem to be inclined to planning anything nefarious like raising another portal to hell. And, hopefully, he would end up staying…? 

Then the phone rang. 

 

* * *

 

Fuck, it turned out that with Mundus’ ignominious passing, the demon lords of Hell were now trying to make a bid to invade the human world to prove their claim to be the next King of Hell. The fact that the barrier between both worlds had been severely weakened by the Qliphoth which parasitic roots had pierced deep in both worlds, only made it worse.

From dusk to dawn, both Vergil and Dante, together with Nero, Lady and Trish, fought waves of demon rabble and killed many demon lords. Who knew there were so many? They must have killed at least twenty demon lords by now. According to Vergil, resident expert on Hell, that wasn’t even half of the total number of demon lords with seventy-two in total. And of course with how bloody demon politics seemed to be, the dead demon lords were quickly replaced by their successors.

Eventually, when the sun rose, the demons stopped trying to invade when the demon lords finally called a retreat, wary of the devil hunters that had killed so many of their brethren. Exhausted, Dante slumped over the couch back in the shop. Likewise, Vergil was slouched at the desk, propping up his forehead with folded hands. 

“This is only temporary. They will come back again for another attempt to conquer the human world in a bid to become new King of Hell,” Trish said as she sat on the coffee table, her blonde hair ruffled with flyaway strands. Lady leaned against her, stifling a yawn. 

Laid flat out on the floor on his back, Nero raised his head and groaned, “Another _attack_? When? I’m not sure if we could handle another one.”

“Could be days or weeks, depending on how quickly those demon lords recover their numbers. We managed to wipe out a good chunk of their army but demons tend to spawn quickly.” Trish replied as she smoothed her hair down. Nero covered his eyes with his forearm and groaned. Dante sympathised. Even if he had more demon blood than Nero, he wasn’t as young as he used to be. The thought of another intense all-day battle in the future had him wanting to bury himself deep in blankets and never come out.

He finally spoke, “So how do we make sure that they don’t come back? The barrier needs to be fixed.”

Trish shook her head, “Indeed, the barrier needs to be repaired but I’m not sure how...Lady, any ideas?”

“Naw, my books only deal with demonology. Nothing about barriers. But say, wouldn’t _he_ know something? Since he once broke the barrier before.” Lady pointedly said as she looked at Vergil sitting at the desk. Vergil slowly raised his head. 

“Perhaps. But it only pertains to that one particular barrier that was linked to Sparda’s Force Edge.” Vergil replied civilly as he straightened up in the chair. Despite his composed demeanour, Dante could sense the tell-tale signs of exhaustion in the rough edge of Vergil’s voice and the tension in his shoulders from trying to stay upright. He felt even more tired just observing him.

“Trish. The reason why these demon lords are attacking…is because they’re vying for the throne. Correct?” Vergil asked rhetorically. Trish nodded once. His brother continued, “Then how does one become King of Hell? How did Mundus become King of Hell? You were his servant once.”

“ _Bastard…_!” Lady hissed, ready to shoot Vergil. Trish chuckled and nudged Lady to calm her down. She replied levelly, “Might makes right. Mundus ate the Qliphoth fruit to gain unparalleled power to become King of Hell. But since the Qliphoth fruit only grows once every few thousand years, the demon lords have no other choice but to fight it out the old fashioned way.”

Nero uncovered his eyes, “Wait, that ugly _fruit_ …? The one I used on Dante and Vergil to split them apart is that _powerful_?”

“Yes. Imagine, if you had eaten it, you would have become King of Hell!” Trish teased Nero, making him blanche at the thought. Lady giggled. But Dante didn’t laugh, a nameless dread forming in the pit of his stomach as he stared at Vergil’s calm face. 

Dante pushed himself up off the couch. Vergil glanced at him before he turned back to the others. He said, “Then it means that either Dante or I have to go to Hell, close the barrier and take the throne to prevent further attacks…”

_No. Vergil surely wasn’t…_

Vergil inclined his head. His smile was rueful as he continued, “As I was formerly Mundus’ general, have eaten the Qliphoth, and more knowledgeable on Hell, I am a better candidate. Dante...has a life here and I do not want to disrupt that.”

Dante erupted. Quickly moving out of the way, Lady, Trish and Nero fled the shop, instinct telling them not to stay too close to two demon princes of Hell. 

 

* * *

 

Vergil had teleported them somewhere deserted to prevent collateral damage. Ignoring his earlier exhaustion, Dante didn’t pay much attention to his new surroundings as he lunged at Vergil with claws outstretched, tail swinging in counterbalance with his wings. He roared, “You’re not going to Hell!”

“Why not?” Vergil rumbled in a deep demonic voice as he dodged his swipe, his wings beating once to take him out of Dante’s reach. As a result of their merging, the absorption of Sparda sword and the Qliphoth fruit, both their Devil forms had evolved to include more wings, tails and a more draconic appearance. All these changes were lost on Dante in his desperate fury, his earlier exhaustion forgotten.

“I don’t want to _lose_ you!” He snarled, “ _Never_ again.” He lunged again, trying to grab Vergil. Vergil dodged once more, his movements flowing like water. As he dodged, he hamstrung Dante with a powerful swipe of his wickedly sharp tail. Buckling, Dante hit the ground hard, his lava hot blood sizzling on the ground. His earlier exhaustion came roaring back with a vengeance, forcing him to shift back into his human form. He remained hunched on the ground, his legs slowly healing.

“...Foolish. You do know that there’s no other choice, right? One of us must go to Hell to take the throne and stop the demons from attacking the human world again. I am the better candidate.” Vergil stated in a measured voice as he dropped his Devil form. Standing over him, his face was a perfect poker face as he continued, “You deserve to live a happy life here in the human world.”

How fucking _stupid_ could Vergil be?! Had he forgotten or was not aware of how miserable Dante had been while Vergil was trapped as a sword during the past two decades? Although his legs hadn’t quite fully healed yet, Dante pushed himself upright to get right into Vergil’s face, gritting his teeth against the agony. He growled, “If you really think I could be happy without you, you’re fucking goddamn _idiot_. If you go to Hell, then I’m coming along as well!”

Vergil’s eyes widened then narrowed. Clenching his fists and bolstered by the memory of their time merged together as a Devil Arm, Dante pressed on, not giving him a chance to speak, “I’ve asked myself constantly if I should have just jumped in after you when you fell from Temenigru. Then when I fought you on Mallet Island without knowing who you were under the helmet, I’d thought I’d killed you. But...you became a Devil Arm instead. I was so...thankful even if I wasn’t sure if there was any way for you to change back. You were _back_.”

Vergil opened his mouth to speak but Dante cut him off, breathlessly continuing, “And then, while we were fighting Mundus, I was...I was _terrified_ that I’d lost you again when he trapped and changed you into Nelo Angelo. If you still remember the time we were joined together, you already _know_ this.”

Vergil was silent. Dante swallowed hard. He had finally said his true feelings and thoughts that had been suppressed all these years. It was both scary and liberating. The only thing that kept him from bolting was the fear that if he took his eyes off Vergil, Vergil would _disappear_ again. He waited with bated breath, wondering how the other would respond. 

“...Yes, I know. So you do remember.” Vergil finally whispered. Dante blinked, wait what? Vergil ruefully laughed, “I’d thought that since you didn’t remember, it was better to stay quiet and just let it be… I was content to be by your side until the recent invasion forced my hand. But now...things have changed.”

Dante took a shaky breath. What was Vergil trying to say? He waited with wide eyes. Vergil combed back a few stray strands of hair in an uncharacteristically nervous gesture. He continued, “I am...grateful that you cared for me while I was lost. Even if I were to never break free of my Devil Arm form, I was...okay with that as long as you kept me by your side. While I did not enjoy the boredom of being stuck in the shop while you were away, it was far better than being trapped as Mundus’ slave. And...you already _know_ why I took Mundus’ attack in that battle.” 

“...Yeah.” Dante quietly said. He did remember that very well and knew what Vergil’s thoughts were. He awkwardly coughed as he stepped closer to Vergil, “So huh. Now we’re both on the same page...I’ll say this first. _Sei la mia polpetta._ ”

Vergil laughed, “Never change. _Tu mi completi._ ”

Their first kiss was awkward and resulted in bruised noses and foreheads. But he wouldn’t have it any other way.

  
Blue

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Vergil woke up early as usual. He absently noted that it was cooler than usual this morning with a faint scent of rain in the air. A quick glance out of the window showed that it was raining heavily. Hmm. Perhaps there wouldn’t be any customers visiting Dante’s shop today. Not in this heavy rain.

Ever since they defeated Mundus and their subsequent successful separation thanks to the Qliphoth fruit, he now lived with Dante in Devil May Cry. It wasn’t too different from when he was stuck as a Devil Arm, only now he could move and speak again. However...Dante was guarded in his presence, unlike before where he would ramble about whatever was on his mind to Vergil in his Devil Arm form. Vergil didn’t blame him; it was quite different interacting with a person than with an object. While he didn’t miss being stuck as a sword, he missed those conversations.

Vergil got out of bed to get dressed. Then he made his way to Dante’s bedroom to shake him awake. As children, Dante had always been a heavy sleeper and that still hadn’t changed even now. As expected, his brother was still fast asleep, blankets half falling off the bed with some pillows scattered on the floor. He’d always moved a lot in his sleep. Leaning over Dante, he called out, “Dante, wake up, it’s time to open shop.”

No response. Dante was still sound asleep. Vergil rolled his eyes. This was fast becoming a chore even though they only had been living together for a short while. So he put his hand on Dante’s bare shoulder and shook him, “Wake up!”

Again, no response. Instead, Dante shifted away from his hand, mumbling incoherently in his sleep. Vergil huffed in annoyance. He tried again. But the sleepyhead still remained fast asleep. Hold on...Was Dante smiling? Vergil couldn’t help but stare, wondering what his brother was dreaming about. It must be a good dream...or perhaps a happy memory?

Vergil swallowed. Changing his mind, he picked up the pillows from the floor and put them back on the bed. He then pulled the blankets back up over Dante and left Dante’s bedroom. He would man the desk for Dante till he woke. 

 

* * *

 

It was painfully dull manning the desk. As he predicted, no one came to the shop due to the heavy rain. To kill time, he was reading a book Nero had recommended. Thankfully, Nero had good taste. While the book wasn’t his favourite genre, it was an interesting read. As hours flew by, the heavy downpour gradually pittered pattered to a light drizzle. Dante still hadn’t woken. 

As Vergil finished a chapter in the book, he heard a loud yelp. Alarmed, he quickly put down the book and dashed upstairs as he called out, “What happened?”

Within seconds, he reached Dante’s bedroom and swiftly opened the door. Looking up at him from his bed, Dante sheepishly shrugged, “Nothing. Just wasn’t expecting the floor to be so cold.”

He stared at Dante with narrowed eyes, trying to see if there was anything wrong with Dante. He didn’t find anything. Relieved, he snorted in amusement, “False alarm then.”

“Yeah. So huh, you got something on today?” Dante questioned, shifting under his blankets. Wait what? Ah, he was probably wondering why he was so dressed up in the “morning”. Dante most likely thought it was still morning, especially with the quality of the lighting. 

Vergil rolled his eyes as he replied, “ _Sleepyhead_ , it’s already past noon. I was up manning the desk all morning while you slept.”

“...Oh.” Dante sounded sheepish. Then, his eyes widened, “Hey, why didn’t you wake me up then?!”

“I tried. Three times. But you were too deep asleep. You also seemed like you were having a good dream,” Vergil patiently replied. He inclined his head at the bed, “So after the failed third attempt, I decided to let you sleep till you finally woke up.” 

He carefully omitted that he had pulled up the blankets for Dante and put the pillows back on the bed for him. That might not go over well with Dante. Dante grumbled and rubbed his head, “Hell, you should still have woken me up anyway! You shouldn’t have to do my job!” 

When Dante threw off the blankets and hopped off the bed to get dressed, Vergil wasn’t surprised to see that he wore only boxers. But he did choke a little when he realised that those boxers were nearly _see-through_ due to how threadbare they were. He could almost see Dante’s ass through the thin cloth. Dante’s cursing and complaining about the icy floor thankfully distracted him. 

“Maybe you should consider getting some carpets.” Vergil dryly commented as he leaned against the doorway. Okay...no he spoke too soon. Dante had bent over to yank on a pair of jeans, those translucent boxers pulling tight across his ass. _Fuck._ He dug his nails into his arms. As Dante pulled on a shirt, he shook his head, “Nah. I don’t spend a lot of time here contrary to what you might think. Besides, laundry bills would be killer with carpets.”

“Fair. Then, bedroom slippers?” Vergil suggested, struggling to keep his face and voice neutral. Dante grabbed his coat and laughed, “Fluffy bedroom slippers? Maybe! But they totally don’t go with my badass image.”

“...You’ve never cared about whether or not it makes you look _ridiculous_. That coat you wore as a teen was horrific.” To be honest, Vergil was just thankful that Dante had outgrown it. He didn’t think he could control himself if Dante still continued wearing those _kind_ of clothes. 

“Terrific, you mean!” Dante pulled on the coat and jabbed at him, “Besides, that _cravat?_ Never letting you live it down!”

Brief embarrassed silence. He’d forgotten about that. Terrible. He conceded with a rueful smile, “Touchè.” 

Dante fist-pumped with a grin. 

 

* * *

 

The mission earlier this afternoon had been messy. Despite his best efforts to keep Yamato clean during the mission, his sword still wound up covered in stubborn bloodstains and mud. This called for an urgent cleaning and maintenance session. Using a fine-grain sandpaper sheet, he carefully scrubbed at a stubborn bloodstain on Yamato’s flat. Luckily, it wasn’t so bad that it required lacquer thinner to remove any gunk. Come to think of it...Dante was quite well stocked with materials that were used for cleaning swords. Of course, he intimately knew those materials; they had been used on him when he was a Devil Arm. 

The sensation of being watched prickled his skin. Dante was staring. Again. Amused that Dante thought he wouldn’t notice with his flimsy pretense of reading the magazine which he hadn’t flipped for at least five minutes, he confronted him, “I know you’re staring. What is it?” 

As he waited for Dante’s reply, he switched the sandpaper out for a soft cloth and carefully ran the soft material down the blade, picking up the last traces of dirt. He heard the magazine rustle as it was closed and put down on the desk. Dante finally replied, “Nothing really. Just thinking that it’s been a while since Mundus bit the dust and it’s starting to get real quiet now that most of the demons that invaded are getting killed off… Not much work left for us, you know...?”

Dante paused. Vergil looked up, interested to hear what else he had to say. Seeing that he had his attention, Dante continued, “You know, Mom’s amulets were used to turn Force Edge into Sparda sword. That sword and the amulets are now part of us. Ironic.”

...Why was he telling him this? He already knew this because Dante had shared that knowledge with him before when they were merged together. Unless...he didn’t remember.

Vergil paused in his cleaning. Dante had picked up the magazine again and was flipping through it with nary a care. It didn’t sit well with him. He needed to confirm that Dante truly did not remember. Speeding up in his current task, he swiftly gave Yamato an oiled rub down as he spoke, “...You already shared that knowledge with me.” 

Finally done, he resheathed Yamato and put it down on the coffee table. He gave Dante an intense searching look, his jaw clenched. Should he ask him if he remembered? The experience of being merged as one, their thoughts and memories seamlessly shared. It had been eye-opening and humbling. For one, he had not known that Dante had been amnesiac when they met before the tower. In his rash temper, he’d thought that he had been making a fool of him and did not react well. Likewise, Dante hadn’t known of Vergil’s motivations and dismissed him in a fit of pique. What fools they had been… 

Then of course, the irreplaceable feeling of being whole, stronger together than apart. The sensation of being incomplete was intensely uncomfortable to say the least whenever Vergil was reminded of it. Did Dante feel it too? Likely not. 

In the end, he looked away and changed the topic, “You ought to stop being so charitable. You’re running a business and you need that cash to maintain a respectable standard of living. Such as having a water supply, heating and electricity. Not to mention your pizza habit.”

“...Hey!” Dante immediately protested. “The others need the money more than me.”

Raising a sardonic brow, Vergil scoffed, “You’re undervaluing yourself and the work you do. To be frank...they’re only leeching off your generosity. You do realise that they could afford it?”

Dante shrugged, “Like I said...they need the cash more than we do.” 

Irritated, Vergil narrowed his eyes and growled, “Always like this with you. You’re far too selfless for your own good. I still remember...how you almost bankrupted yourself with that sword stand for me when I was stuck as a Devil Arm. You should look after yourself more.”

It was just one example of Dante’s selflessness. There had been others who benefitted but unlike Vergil who had been grateful, they selfishly exploited Dante’s kindness without any shred of gratitude. It sickened and infuriated him to no end. This had to _stop_ now. 

Dante flushed. Okay, maybe he was going too far. Vergil gentled his tone with a faint smile, “I appreciated it. But you didn’t have to do that for me. I do not need such luxurious accessories when it’s at your expense.”

Dante raised the magazine higher to hide his face as he mumbled, “Okay. Gotcha.”

“So, will you start charging _proper_ fees?” Vergil demanded firmly. Was Dante just giving lip service or not?

“...Yeah, I’ll start charging properly. Satisfied now?” Dante relented, sounding a little waspish. 

Good. Hopefully with more income as he deserved, Dante could start looking after himself better. With an approving nod, Vergil said, “Good. I won’t tell you how to run the rest of your business but I absolutely insist on you getting paid what you deserve for all the hard work you’ve done. It’s only fair.”

“...And what about you? What are you going to do? You can’t possibly help me run Devil May Cry right? You’ve got your...own thing…” Dante asked, lowering the magazine. 

_Why was Dante asking him that? Did he not want him to stay…?_

Vergil stiffened. He threw Dante another searching look but failed to glean what he was thinking. A bitter taste in his mouth, he eventually replied, “I haven’t decided yet. I will let you know when I’ve decided.”

“Okay…?” Dante hesitantly said, his brows knitting into a frown. Vergil clenched his fist.

Then the phone rang. 

 

* * *

 

He should have predicted this. With Mundus’ ignominious passing, the demon lords of Hell were now trying to make a bid to invade the human world to prove their claim to be the next King of Hell. The fact that the barrier between both worlds had been severely weakened by the Qliphoth which parasitic roots had pierced deep in both worlds, only made it worse.

From dusk to dawn, both Vergil and Dante, together with Nero, Lady and Trish, fought waves of demon rabble and killed many demon lords. By his last count, they had killed at least twenty demon lords. This wasn’t even half of all the demon lords in hell with seventy-two in total. Irritatingly, the dead lords were quickly replaced by their successors, slowing down their progress.

At last, when the sun rose, the demons stopped trying to invade when the demon lords called a retreat, wary of the devil hunters that had killed so many of their brethren. Back in the shop, it was all Vergil could do to stay awake as he slouched over the desk, propping up folded hands against his forehead. In his peripheral view, Dante was slumped over the couch. 

“This is only temporary. They will come back again for another attempt to conquer the human world in a bid to become new King of Hell,” Trish said as she sat on the coffee table, her blonde hair ruffled with flyaway strands. Thanks to his memories as Nelo Angleo, Vergil wasn’t surprised by her resemblance to Dante’s and his mother Eva. Lady leaned against her, stifling a yawn. 

Laid flat out on the floor on his back, Nero raised his head and groaned, “Another _attack_? When? I’m not sure if we could handle another one.”

“Could be days or weeks, depending on how quickly those demon lords recover their numbers. We managed to wipe out a good chunk of their army but demons tend to spawn quickly.” Trish replied as she smoothed her hair down. Nero covered his eyes with his forearm and groaned. Vergil sympathised. It had been a gruelling all-day battle. The only time that had been worse was when he’d fought Mundus the first time in Hell.

Dante tiredly spoke, “So how do we make sure that they don’t come back? The barrier needs to be fixed.”

Trish shook her head, “Indeed, the barrier needs to be repaired but I’m not sure how...Lady, any ideas?”

“Naw, my books only deal with demonology. Nothing about barriers. But say, wouldn’t _he_ know something? Since he once broke the barrier before.” Lady pointedly said as she looked at him sitting at the desk. He slowly raised his head. Still acerbic as ever, Mary. 

But there was no point in fighting with a crisis on the horizon. Staying calm, Vergil straightened up in the chair as he replied, “Perhaps. But it only pertains to that one particular barrier that was linked to Sparda’s Force Edge.” 

Turning his attention to Trish, he asked her to confirm his suspicions, “Trish. The reason why these demon lords are attacking…is because they’re vying for the throne. Correct?”

Trish nodded once. Okay. The next question then. He asked, “Then how does one become King of Hell? How did Mundus become King of Hell? You were his servant once.”

“ _Bastard…_!” Lady hissed, ready to shoot him. Trish chuckled and nudged Lady to calm her down. She replied levelly, “Might makes right. Mundus ate the Qliphoth fruit to gain unparalleled power to become King of Hell. But since the Qliphoth fruit only grows once every few thousand years, the demon lords have no other choice but to fight it out the old fashioned way.”

_Thought so... So is there no other way but this…?_

Nero uncovered his eyes, “Wait, that ugly _fruit_ …? The one I used on Dante and Vergil to split them apart is that _powerful_?”

“Yes. Imagine, if you had eaten it, you would have become King of Hell!” Trish teased Nero, making him blanche at the thought. Lady giggled. Vergil didn’t laugh. He waited for them to finish giggling. Sparing Dante a quick glance, he saw him getting up from the couch. With grim determination, he said, “Then it means that either Dante or I have to go to Hell, close the barrier and take the throne to prevent further attacks…”

_I have to do this. This is the only way._

He inclined his head. He ruefully smiled, “As I was formerly Mundus’ general, have eaten the Qliphoth, and more knowledgeable on Hell, I am a better candidate. Dante...has a life here and I do not want to disrupt that.”

Dante erupted. Quickly moving out of the way, Lady, Trish and Nero fled the shop, instinct telling them not to stay too close to two demon princes of Hell. 

 

* * *

 

In order to prevent collateral damage to Dante’s shop, Vergil teleported them somewhere deserted. Barely moments after they arrived, the transformed Dante lunged at him with claws, wings and tail as he roared, “You’re not going to Hell!”

Similarly transformed, he dodged Dante’s attack with a strong beat of his wings that took him out of his reach. As a result of their merging, the absorption of Sparda sword and the Qliphoth fruit, both their Devil forms had evolved to include more wings, tails and a more draconic appearance. He rumbled in a deep demonic voice, “Why not?” 

“I don’t want to _lose_ you!” Dante snarled, “ _Never_ again.” He lunged again, trying to grab Vergil. _Enough_. He had to stop the fight from getting out of control. He dodged once more, his movements flowing like water. As he dodged, he hamstrung Dante with a powerful swipe of his wickedly sharp tail. Buckling, Dante hit the ground hard, his lava hot blood sizzling on the ground. Temporarily immobilised, he remained hunched on the ground, his legs slowly healing.

“...Foolish. You do know that there’s no other choice, right? One of us must go to Hell to take the throne and stop the demons from attacking the human world again. I am the better candidate.” Vergil stated in a measured voice as he dropped his Devil form. Standing over Dante, he maintained a poker face as he continued, “You deserve to live a happy life here in the human world.”

If Dante didn’t want him to stay, then there was no point in staying here in the human world. Besides, this was for a good cause this time…Like their father before them, he would guard the human world by ensuring the barrier’s sanctity. Unlike Dante who already had connections here, Vergil had none, his apparent son Nero not withstanding, and so was free to leave if he so chose. 

But his foolish brother refused to stay down despite his injury. Dante pushed himself to his feet and growled, “If you really think I could be happy without you, you’re fucking goddamn _idiot_. If you go to Hell, then I’m coming along as well!”

Vergil’s eyes widened then narrowed. No, he could not let that _happen_! Dante pressed on, not giving him a chance to speak, “I’ve asked myself constantly if I should have just jumped in after you when you fell from Temenigru. Then when I fought you on Mallet Island without knowing who you were under the helmet, I’d thought I’d killed you. But...you became a Devil Arm instead. I was so...thankful even if I wasn’t sure if there was any way for you to change back. You were _back_.”

. _..What?_

Before Vergil could speak, Dante cut him off, breathlessly continuing, “And then, while we were fighting Mundus, I was...I was _terrified_ that I’d lost you again when he trapped and changed you into Nelo Angelo. If you still remember the time we were joined together, you already _know_ this.”

Oh. He had been gotten it wrong all along. Dante did remember after all. He had never been so glad to be mistaken in his entire life. As he stayed silent, he searched for the right words to say. When he was finally ready to speak, his heart was racing. He whispered, “...Yes, I know. So you do remember.” 

Dante blinked. Relieved and rueful, Vergil laughed, “I’d thought that since you didn’t remember, it was better to stay quiet and just let it be… I was content to be by your side until the recent invasion forced my hand. But now...things have changed.”

Dante’s eyes grew wide. Okay. Final stretch. Vergil nervously combed back a few stray strands of his hair. He continued, “I am...grateful that you cared for me while I was lost. Even if I were to never break free of my Devil Arm form, I was...okay with that as long as you kept me by your side. While I did not enjoy the boredom of being stuck in the shop while you were away, it was far better than being trapped as Mundus’ slave. And...you already _know_ why I took Mundus’ attack in that battle.” 

It was as though a huge weight was finally off his shoulders. Now, the ball was in Dante’s court.

“...Yeah.” Dante quietly said. He awkwardly coughed as he stepped closer to Vergil, “So huh. Now we’re both on the same page...I’ll say this first. _Sei la mia polpetta._ ”

Amused and glad, Vergil laughed, “Never change. _Tu mi completi._ ”

Their first kiss was awkward and resulted in bruised noses and foreheads. Nevertheless, he thought it was perfect.

Red

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALMOST THE END. ONE MORE CHAPTER TO GO. 
> 
> Comments and Kudos are much appreciated!


	7. Chapter 7

The phone rang shrilly, breaking the peaceful calm inside the office. As it continued ringing loudly, footsteps pounded on the wooden floorboards above as Nero shouted, “Hold on! Coming!”

Reaching the stairs, he hopped onto the bannister and slid down it. Once midway, he jumped off. Landing easily like a cat and in two quick strides, he reached the table to pick up the phone, cutting off the shrill ringing.

“Devil May Cry. How can I help you?”

Nero patiently listened to the person on the other end of the phone, occasionally humming to let them know he was still listening, “Yeah...huh uh. Hm..hm.”

When the call finally ended, he slammed the phone down with an annoyed huff. That hadn’t been a customer call nor was it from Kyrie who was still in Fortuna with the kids. Instead, it had been a complaint from one of the neighbours about the loud banging noises and explosions coming from the basement. 

As if on cue, another bang echoed from the basement. Nero sighed and headed towards the door that led to the basement. As he descended the stairs into the spacious and well-lit basement that served as Nico’s laboratory and workspace, the banging noise grew louder until his ears ached.

Finally clearing the last step, he saw Nico hammering away at a new weapon with intense focus. Cupping his hands over his mouth, he shouted, “Hey Nico! Quit your hammering! We just got another complaint!”

Nico jolted, her hammer almost hitting her thumb. Grabbing an empty paper coffee cup from among the multitude of coffee cups littering her worktable, she spun around and threw it at Nero with an irritated shout, “Asshole! Stop sneaking up on me! I nearly nailed my thumb!”

Nero let the light projectile bounce off him. He bent down to pick it from the floor and tossed it up and down in his hand. He replied, “Well, you gotta stop making a racket! The neighbours have been complaining about your noise again! Morrison can only do so much, you know.”

“Ugh!! We already soundproofed the place! Do we have to add another layer of soundproofing or what?” Nico huffed as she furiously gestured to the walls around them that were covered with thick foam. Nero shrugged, “Maybe we gotta add some demonic seals? Lady and Trish could help with that.”

“Ehh… demonic seals are such _bullshit_. But whatever. As long as it gets the old farts off our backs. I can’t work in peace on these Devil Bringers with all these constant interruptions!” Nico groused. She leaned back and crossed her arms, “This is already so much better than the dinky garage back in Fortuna, no offense. No way in hell am I moving out!”

Nero snorted, “Yeah, me neither. This building is really convenient for our work. Safer as well. We don’t have to worry about the kids messing with weapons and stuff like before.”

“Oh _worm_.” Nico agreed. “To be honest, I’d rather face Mundus than deal with a righteously pissed off Kyrie. She can be real scary when the kids are in trouble or hurt.”

“Yeah…” Nero agreed with a sheepish grin. Nico rolled her eyes. A comfortable silence fell as Nico fiddled with her hammer. She eventually broke the silence, “It was real nice of Dante to give you the place. Shame I didn’t get to speak much with him before he left with Vergil, but it was cool getting to meet the guy my gran spoke of. I wonder if he’s making good use of the hat I gave him?”

“Yeah. I guess.” Nero sat down on the stairs. He looked around the basement and sighed, “I just...I understand why they had to leave. Someone had to close the barrier and they were the only ones who could. I…Fuck, _man_ , it would have been nice to have a bit more time to get to know my family better. You know what I mean?”

Although it had already been months since Dante and Vergil departed for Hell, it still stung. Even though Dante had been generous in giving him the deed to the shop, it just couldn’t replace _family_. Nero took some consolation that at least they were still alive. Since they were also the most powerful people he had met, they should be fine in Hell...hopefully?

“Not really. My father was an evil asshole so I don’t. Your father Vergil? I guess he’s not so bad? Dante’s cool though.” Nico said with a casual nod.

Nero rolled the coffee cup between his hands as he stewed in silence. He yelped when Nico pegged him with another empty coffee cup. She said, “Cheer up! It’s not like they’re dead and gone. I’m sure they’ll return one day once the barrier is settled and Hell’s calmed their tits. They’ve got Yamato.”

True. But would they want to return? The human world was so fragile compared to their sheer power. Case in point: although Nero wasn’t as powerful like them due to only being a quarter demon, he still had to be cautious about how much strength to use. He imagined that it would be worse for them, especially with the power of the Qliphoth flowing in their veins. They could easily destroy the world if they were so inclined. 

“...Maybe? Yeah?” Nero shrugged. Nico picked up her hammer again and returned to her work, “At least you’re living up to the name of the family business. It’s okay to cry...pussy.”

“Bitch.”

“Asshole.”

 

* * *

 

It was glorious chaos as Dante and Vergil fought swarms of demons in Hell. Brilliant flashes of red and blue exploded across the land, gouging the earth and demons alike. Dante whooped as he bisected three demons in a row, “That makes thirty three!”

Beside him, Vergil wouldn’t be outdone and began zipping around the demons, gutting them with Yamato to spill hot guts onto the ground. In a flash, he returned unscathed. As he flicked the blood off his weapon, he smugly smirked at Dante, “Thirty four.” 

“Bastard!” Dante growled. Refusing to be one-upped by Vergil, he partially transformed and without pause, lashed out his spiky tail behind him to stab a Riot attempting to sneak up on him. It died quickly with a gurgle. With a flick of his tail, he sliced through the corpse to cut into a second Riot. It went down with a screech. 

“ _Thirty five._ ” He grinned with sharp fangs. Vergil rolled his eyes at him in response, “Fine, whoever gets the demon lord this time wins.”

“You’re on!” Dante cheered, keen to take on the challenge. He peered around the field trying to spot the demon lord among the swarm as he dodged and cut down any enemies that got too close. To his annoyance, it was simply too chaotic to spot them easily. He shouted at Vergil, “Which one is the demon lord again?!”

Partially transforming as well, Vergil wrapped his tail around Dante’s waist to pull him out of harm’s way as he cut down an Empusa Queen. Dante yelped indignantly, “Hey! I could have handled that!”

The demon exploded in a spray of noxious poisonous acid that sizzled on the ground. Vergil’s tail snaked free as he replied drolly, “And I do not wish to handle your bitching as you heal from acid burns. You were always a poor patient.”

“ _Ugh…_ ” Dante couldn’t argue. He did _hate_ acid burns because of how much they stung and his skin would still be sensitive afterwards for ages. Pouting, he repeated his earlier question, “So which one is the demon lord?”

“Why should I tell you?” Vergil said with a smirk. He slipped away from Dante before he could stop him, “Finders winners.”

“... _Dito al culo!_ ” Dante flipped him the finger. Then he backhanded a Fury which had tried to attack him, crushing its chest and sending it flying. He was not letting Vergil win this! He threw himself into the heat of battle once more. He was killing the demon lord first!

 

* * *

 

In the end, it wasn’t clear who had won. Vergil looked down at the poor bastard that had been the demon lord. Without knowing or paying attention during the melee, one of them must have killed them without realising their identity. On the other hand, it looked like this one had been trying to run, causing his minions to turn on him in the end, lynching him to death. What a way to go. 

What was their name again? It was right on the tip of the tongue but he couldn’t quite get it right. How annoying. Meh, It wasn’t that important. The demon lord was dead like the others that had tried to revolt against their new Kings of Hell.

Dante finally joined him after completing his rounds to make sure that there weren’t any more enemies in the area. The battlefield was empty, swathes of demons extinguished before their merciless onslaught. As he glided down from the sky in his Devil Trigger, Vergil admired the view. After being trapped as a blind Devil Arm for years, he deeply appreciated being able to see Dante. He never tired of seeing Dante in all his forms.

Touching down, Dante’s devil form vanished in a shower of red sparks that washed over him with gentle warmth. He rested Rebellion over his shoulder and looked down at the body that was starting to break up into glowing specks. He tilted his head and asked with a raised brow, “This is the demon lord? Huh. So, who got them first?” 

With a shrug, Vergil replied, “To be honest...I’m not sure. I wasn’t paying close attention.”

“Aw man! Then how do we know who won?!” Dante whined childishly. The dichotomy between his childish behaviour and fearsome reputation as the legendary devil slayer (and King of Hell) was rather amusing. Vergil chuckled, “We could go by how many we killed. How many did you get?”

Dante gulped. He hadn’t kept track, too busy mowing through the minions to find the elusive demon lord. He scratched his head, “Errr, dunno. Lost count, I guess.”

“...Then it’s pointless.” Vergil rolled his eyes. Wait, hold on...what were the stakes for winning or losing? Had they even agreed on it? 

...No. They had not. How embarrassing. Never mind. He shook his head, “Come on, let’s get back to our base.”

“...Shit, we forgot to set the stakes, didn’t we?” Dante rubbed his chin thoughtfully. 

_Fuck_ , Dante had also realised the same thing as he did. Vergil deliberately did not look at him as a sheepish silence fell. Even so, his ears felt hot. 

 

* * *

 

“Oh my god, we did!” Dante cackled, breaking the silence. Vergil’s red ears were a dead giveaway. He couldn’t believe that they had actually forgotten to set the stakes on their little competition just now. It was just so silly. 

Strapping Rebellion to his back, he strolled closer to Vergil and wrapped his arms around his shoulders. Draping over him, he impishly said, “Say, when we get back, shall we have another competition?”

“Oh?” Vergil arched an intrigued brow, easily reading Dante’s intent. “Another _competition_ , you say?”

“Yep.” Dante grinned before he pecked Vergil’s cheek, “You up for it, V?”

Despite his heavy weight, Vergil didn’t shake him off. Instead, he unsheathed Yamato and cut open a portal. As he resheathed his weapon, he replied with a faint demonic echo in his voice, “Be forewarned that I don’t intend to lose.”

Dante shuddered. Vergil’s demonic voice just did _things_ to him so easily. He figured that it was probably because he simply couldn’t get enough of his voice after so many years of silence. Rallying, he purred back, “Me neither. But the way I see it, it’s win-win.”

Vergil pulled away from Dante’s arms and turned around. His eyes glowed red and a predatory smirk rested on his lips. He cocked his head towards the portal, “Let’s get moving then.”

“You got it right.”

Dante knew that his expression mirrored Vergil’s. Together, they moved towards the portal, back to their new home in Hell. 

**Fin.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU FOR READING!! 
> 
> I can't believe that I've finished this story! I hope you've enjoyed it and I would really love it if you could share what you enjoyed about the story in the comments below! ❤️❤️❤️


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